Hush
by Lunaretic
Summary: There's a thin line between strength and weakness - the higher you get, the harder you fall. He had no idea how much had happened while he was away, but he knew he had to fix it. This time, he would put his life on the line for her. Z/A
1. Trapped

**Author's Notes:** I have taken down the old and incomplete version of this story, _Screaming__ in our Hearts. _I have tweaked it, revamped it, added scenes and took some away, and changed…a lot. It was years ago when I first posted it and it didn't get many hits, so I don't think there will be any old faces around here – just thought I'd throw out that warning anyway. I'm still doing plenty of editing, and of course the story itself never progressed past chapter five, so I have actual writing to accomplish as well. I'm pretty confident that I can do it in a timely fashion, though. I have everything mapped out in the good ol' noggin.

This story is only based on the first three seasons of Slayers. I like Revolution a lot so far, but it's not finished yet, so my story will just take place after the events of TRY to make things easier.

I like angst. If you don't…sorry man, then this probably isn't for you. I'll try to keep things in-character though. Oh, and reviews are pretty cool.

**Summary:** After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again…

* * *

**Prologue  
**'trapped'

_Six months after Dark Star..._

_- -_

She thought she was dead.

When she woke to the hazy fog that wrapped snuggly around her brain, she was too disoriented to realize where she was. It was pitch black and she was freezing, that she was able to discern. Her arms couldn't move. Her legs were numb. She couldn't muster the strength to speak. Wherever she was, her entire body was powerless, immobilized.

She had to be dead. But could the spirit feel cold? And could it not move when the body was at its final rest?

Why couldn't she move?

Thoughts slowly trickled in with more solidity. A sword. Yes, it was a sword that had struck her down, impaled her through her abdomen and taken her life. She hated swords. Once upon a time, she had known how to use one; she had received mandatory lessons from the general himself. But it was a sword that had slain her mother, and so she grew to despise them. And now, she had been killed by one too.

By who's hand?

Maybe if she had wielded a sword of her own, she could have defended herself. Her cowardice and stubbornness brought about her own death because she refused to be prepared.

_No._

Through the dreamlike fog that her mind was still prisoner to, faint images crawled through the murk to form a face: ominous black slits for eyes, a pointed and crooked nose, white translucent skin that pulled tightly over blue and black inhuman veins. And a rough, raspy voice that hissed sadistically into her ear as a sword was thrust straight through her belly.

That voice…oh gods, that voice…

_Booley__._

He should have been dead. Gracia had fired their mother's only known offensive spell, _Chaos String_, and the cord of terror had pierced his heart and shredded his soul. She had witnessed it all, saw the puddles of crimson blood soak and spread into the creamy white carpet, felt the scarlet droplets splatter across her face and nightgown, heard the chokes and gurgles erupt as it spewed from his mouth like a fountain of rubies.

He did die. But what she hadn't counted on was his rebirth into something even more diabolical than what he had been as a human. And years later, the revived Mazoku came after the sisters in hot vengeance, but only found one. His sorcery rivaled hers, but it was his sword that made the final strike. He had stabbed her hard, carried her to a clearing in the woods, and stuffed her lifeless body into a narrow wooden box.

Box…lifeless…

_No._

And just like that, the slothful bleariness gave way to terrified awareness. Her arms couldn't move because they were pinned to her sides. Her legs were numb from the thick braids of rope that bound them together at the knees and ankles. And she couldn't speak because of the tape that was pasted down over her chapped lips.

_Wait_, she thought with mounting dread, _not tape_. Her mind recalled the image of a silver needle, its sharp point blinking in the moonlight as a strand of thread was passed through its eye.

Her mouth had been sewn shut.

And Amelia Wil Tesla Seyruun had been buried alive.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Slayers.


	2. Puzzles

**Author's Notes:** Okay, time to play catch-up on what happened to Zel-kun!

**Summary:** After living in seclusion for three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...

* * *

**Chapter One  
**'puzzles'

_And sing to me when you're sinking  
And you know I'm wide awake and watching for you._

LetterKills

_Three years after Dark Star..._

- -

_Silence…_

The forest was eerily quiet, as if they were the only living creatures that treaded upon the dirt and moss grounds. He was constantly stepping on twigs and dried leaves, but no sound resonated from his actions. Only his hoarse, ragged breathing rang in his ears, dappled with fright and uncertainty as he cautiously followed the graceful form before him.

_Solitude…_

He couldn't sense any other presence deep within the woods, and the feeling of such isolation was starting to put him on edge. How long had it been since they left that tiny village? It had still been daylight when they started their trek into the forest, but now he could barely see five feet ahead of him.

_Darkness…_

Black shadows fell upon the forest grounds, so twisted and gnarled that they formed the shapes of feral beasts, ready to pounce on him as he wove his way through the sea of trees. Even the sky appeared grotesque, harboring a moon that was like a gash in the heavens rather than a beautiful silver crescent.

Why had they gone into the forest in the first place? He couldn't seem to remember.

A sudden dark mist started to roll in, and he had to squint through its hazy veils to keep his companion in sight. He traipsed closer to her as she slowed to a stop, her slender form cocooned within the walls of the black fog, her eyes wide and fearful as she took in her surroundings. He tried to swat it away as he felt it claim him, his skin and eyes burning with irritation at its touch. She must have shared the feeling – she was clawing viciously at her flesh, desperately trying to relieve herself of the prickly sensation.

"Like bugs under my skin," she whispered, settling her frightened blue eyes on his stricken face. He swallowed nervously and reached a hand out to her, but she jerked away before he could even make contact. Her fingernails tore into her flesh, marring her lightly tanned skin with streams of crimson.

"What's happening?" Her eyes were darting from side to side now, the raven fog continuing to envelop her with its gaseous binds. Her hands moved to cover her ears. "It's calling my name."

Again he reached for her. Again she jerked away.

Her eyes suddenly turned brutal and harsh as she glared at him, shards of ice embedded within those sapphire depths. "How could you do this to me?"

He drew away from her, feeling the cutting pain from her accusation strike him deeply. Never had she looked at him that way before, with eyes that had always held warmth and compassion for him. What had he done? Could he ever fix it? Did she want him to?

A string of gurgles and coughs erupted, racking her slender frame with agonizing spasms. She fell to her hands and knees, a trickle of blood trailing down her chin. "No! I won't do it!"

Who was she talking to?

From the murky shadows a sword appeared, and she immediately grabbed for it. The motion seemed so natural for her, but he knew it wasn't. She _detested_ weapons. But then why was she wielding it with such determination?

"This is love," she whispered, her voice rattled with trepidation.

She plunged the gleaming blade straight into her heart.

_"NO!"_

_Death…_

It ripped her apart.

- -

Zelgadis rocketed into a sitting position in his tiny cot, his chest heaving uncontrollably with the need for air. His fingers were clenching the flannel sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned a sickly pallid color, and he had to gradually coax himself to control his ragged breathing and release his taut grip. The soft material pooled around his waist as he laid his palms flat against the mattress, and his eyes closed in relief with the realization that what he had envisioned was nothing but a dream.

_A bad dream…_

Still struggling to compose himself, he slowly opened his eyes and allowed his bleary gaze to roam around the cramped attic that was his bedroom, finally settling on its lone window. The thin strip of golden light spilling through its slightly parted curtains indicated that it was morning, and with a quiet grunt, Zelgadis flipped the sheets away from him and stepped onto the dusty floor. He slowly strode over to the window and threw the curtains apart, allowing the balmy sunshine to wash over his skin and flood the room in a tangerine glow.

_Another nightmare…_

Exhaling shakily, Zelgadis made his way to the wooden chest at the foot of the cot – albeit unsteadily – and raised the lid to pull out a clean set of clothing. After donning a pair of black trousers and charcoal traveling boots, he pulled on a thin beige button down shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror across the room, and stopped in his actions to let his eyes trace over his reflection: hair the color of dark chocolate with the texture of silk, lightly tanned human flesh,wide sky blue eyes that were no longer mere slits. This was the true Zelgadis Greywords, the man he'd longed to become once again for so many years.

So why, after attaining his dream, was he having nightmares about a girl from his past that meant nothing to him?

_Nothing._

_…Nothing? I would've died for her back then. I almost did. Is that nothing?_

A sharp rap on the door promptly averted his attention, saving him from the submergence into the thoughts he knew he wasn't ready to contend with yet.

"Yes?" His voice was rough and gravelly, almost alien to even himself, but the person asking for admission apparently thought nothing of it as the door swung open rather violently with a determined push.

A slender, but busty middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on her cloth apron as she regarded him with twinkling brown eyes. "Zel, honey, your breakfast is ready," she chirped, blithely grinning at him while she continued to clean her hands. Her face held a warm rosy sheen to it, evidence of her time spent over a hot stove.

Zelgadis bowed his head in appreciative thanks, but his voice was apologetic when he spoke. "Thank you, Kara-san. However, I'm not incredibly hungry this morning. Would it be terribly insulting to ask only for a piece of toast?"

"Yes, yes it would," Kara was immediately on guard, bustling into the room with an outstretched hand. "I hope you're not sick." She laid her hand on Zelgadis's forehead before he had the chance to react, her face screwed up with worry. "I'd hate for you to come down with something now, when Luo seems to have an important task for you."

Zelgadis quickly ducked his head away from her motherly hand, eyes narrowing. "Task? What task?"

The woman huffed and perched her hands on her hips, clearly frustrated at the rejection of her coddling. "There won't be any task at all if you're sick," she firmly stated. "I love my husband, but I won't let allow him to put your health in danger."

"I'm not sick, Kara-san," he sighed. He hated her motherly instincts – he was twenty-three years old, for Cepheid's sake. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, as well as making his own decisions. "Now, what task?"

Kara tucked a stray lock of her graying hair behind her ear, an impish smile playing across her wise features. "He'll tell you all about it, dear. _After_ you eat your breakfast."

Zelgadis opened his mouth to oppose, but Kara quickly silenced him with a hard glare. "Are you arguing with me, young man? We've done a lot for you; the least you can do is humor an old lady and eat your breakfast."

His taut features slowly relaxed into an almost amused expression. Her forcefulness reminded him so very much of Lina at times, and he allowed one corner of his mouth to quirk upwards in a half-smile. "You're not old, Kara-san. And thank you for fixing me breakfast – I'm sure it'll be wonderful like always."

An appreciative smile immediately lit up her face once again, and Zelgadis gave her a swift kiss on the cheek before making his way to the door. He could hear her happily humming under her breath as she flurried about the room to perform her cleaning duties. Before he exited the room, though, he turned to address her one last time.

"And Kara-san…I really do appreciate all you and Luo-san have done for me."

Kara looked up from her current position by the cot, but didn't stop her actions of making the bed. "I know, dear. And we love having you here," she winked. "You're practically part of the family."

Zelgadis gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, which seemed to have taken on a hollow look in response to her comment. "Yes. Family, indeed," he nearly whispered as he turned and strode from the room.

Kara watched his seemingly dismal retreat, a frown creasing her brow. What had she said this time? She clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she finished making his bed before turning her attention to the wooden chest. She had never ventured in there before, for the lid had always been shut. But now her dark eyes scanned the mess of clothing inside, and she sighed as she knelt down to fold the tangled apparel.

_Men.__ Always messy in one way or another._

A pile of neatly folded clothes soon began to build as Kara worked her way through the various garments, but she scrunched her nose in disgust when her hands grabbed hold of a beige traveling outfit. It was stained with blood and grime, the trim of the cape almost black from dirt. It was dappled with several holes, and she could tell there were many more underneath poorly-done stitching jobs. The only piece that seemed to be intact was the cowl, and she knew Zelgadis had no reason to wear such a thing anymore.

She debated throwing away the entire outfit, but was able to suppress the urge. It would have been horribly invasive, even for her. She shook her head and folded the attire, nonetheless, but set them aside from the original pile. Perhaps she could do a better mending job.

The trunk was nearly empty now, save for a few delicates, but her brows immediately drew together when she lifted an undershirt to reveal a brown leather canteen. The fact that he owned one didn't surprise her in the least – she knew he used to travel a lot, after all, and one could hardly journey for months on end without a decent supply of drinking water. Rather, it was the piece of jewelry adorning it that fueled her curiosity to inspect further.

"What have we, here?" Kara mumbled, an eyebrow raised. She gingerly held the light pink band between her fingertips, the star-embedded sapphire gem twinkling underneath the sunlight protruding into the room. There were two letters carved into the center of the five-pointed star: 'A.S.'

She gently placed the bracelet back where she found it, but instead of turning back to her business of folding clothes, she let her hands glide over the leather-bound notebook that rested beneath the canteen. Perfectly aware of her horrible tendencies to snoop, and yet not minding them in the least, she picked up the notebook and laid it across her lap.

Turning over the front cover, she scanned the carefully written words on the first page: 'Property of Zelgadis Greywords.' Further probing of the notebook revealed journal entries – which she found herself resisting the urge to read – and studied the random drawings scattered throughout, instead. They were quite well-drawn, though not colored, and contained great detail. She flipped through the drawings of various males indifferently, but rather focused her attention upon the drawings of the girls.

A petite girl with long hair and a mischievous grin. A more physically developed woman with long straight hair and a mage's rod. Another well developed girl with ringlets and a rather scandalous outfit. A girl with long straight hair wearing the royal seal of – what Kara believed to be – Femille. A woman with thick hair that fell below her waist, wearing the robes of a priestess that didn't quite fully conceal a tail.

Kara pursed her lips in concentration. None of the women drawn wore the bracelet.

She shook her head absently and returned the notebook, deciding to finish her task of folding Zelgadis's clothes before she got too carried away. But a single question nagged at her mind throughout the entire day.

_Who the heck is A.S.?_

- -

Zelgadis finished his eggs and bacon to appease Kara, though he felt his stomach churn in resistance. No matter what he did, he just couldn't lose the image of an innocent princess being devoured by the poisonous mist that had crept into so many of his dreams lately. He pushed himself away from the table and picked up his empty plate to go wash it in the sink. Usually Kara had no problem doing his dishes, but she seemed to be taking an awfully long time cleaning his room.

_Overachiever._

He laughed softly to himself as he rinsed off his plate and placed it in the dish rack to dry before exiting the kitchen to find the man of the house.

Luo Glaon was a hulk of a man, reaching almost six-foot-seven and bulging with muscles earned from decades of training. So when Zelgadis peered through the window of the living room to glance at the back yard, it was incredibly hard to not see the giant out by Kara's flower garden.

He quietly stepped out the back door and made his way across the lush greenery, stopping just slightly behind Luo's massive form.

Luo didn't even turn around. "Zelgadis-san."

Zelgadis bowed respectively, even whilst knowing that the action couldn't be seen. "Luo-san, I was told you wanted to speak with me."

"Hmm." Luo only nodded, and Zelgadis didn't speak further, knowing not to interrupt the Great Sage's train of thought. He would speak to him when he was ready.

Moments of silence drifted through the air before Luo spoke again, his back still turned to the ex-chimera. "How have you been sleeping lately?"

The question startled Zelgadis, though he knew he should've been used to such queries by now. Throughout his decades of researching white magic, it was only natural for Luo to develop somewhat of a prophetic sense. Nevertheless, Zelgadis's eyes widened as he stammered a bit before releasing a coherent answer. "Just fine." Maybe the Sage wouldn't notice.

"You lie."

_Dammit._

Zelgadis stared intently at the back of Luo's graying head, almost as if he were trying to read the older man's thoughts. "Everyone gets nightmares."

"But not like the ones you and I have been having."

Zelgadis gulped. If Luo had been having strange dreams as well, than there was a possibility that…

"Yet another threat is rising," Luo spoke softly, all the while gazing out at the blue horizon. "We never have time to rest in this wretched world."

Zelgadis remained silent as Luo finally craned his neck to look at him, his grim features somehow appearing grotesque beneath the golden glow of the sun. Luo Glaon could have, at one time, been labeled as handsome. But decades of journeying and fighting had woven themselves into his features, enhancing the haggardness of his face and the sallow of his skin. His right eye seemed to even be going through the troublesome ordeal of cataracts, where his left eye had been shut permanently for years from a scar that slashed right down the middle of his eyelid. He was, however, far from losing his game, and Zelgadis was sure to never underestimate him because of that.

"I can sense a change in your aura," his deep voice rumbled softly, reminding Zelgadis of the sound of a thunderstorm far off in the distance. "You've drawn into yourself once again, just the way you were when you sought my help over two years ago."

Zelgadis lowered his eyes. "My dreams…they include somebody I know." He tried to speak with as much indifference as he could muster; he didn't want to give Luo the wrong impression. No one could control what they dreamt.

"Ah," Luo gave a slow nod. "That pretty young thing with the deep blue eyes. Yes, I see her, too."

The familiar creepy sensation of Luo's sixth sense crawled up Zelgadis's spine once again (how much did this guy _know?_), but he nodded nonetheless.

Finally, Luo turned to fully face him. "There are no coincidences, Zelgadis."

"…I know."

"She could be in danger."

"…Maybe."

Luo stood, almost majestically, with his good eye boring into Zelgadis's bland expression. "Will you go to her?"

Zelgadis shifted uncomfortably. The subject of the princess always managed to make him squirm in the slightest, mostly because his other traveling companions had the annoying habit of creating an imaginary romantic link between the two of them. "Why should I? It has nothing to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you if you are receiving the visions," Luo gently scolded.

The ex-chimera tried a different approach. "I don't know if I'm physically ready."

Luo didn't move; he just continued to stare at Zelgadis, his powerful arms folded across his bulging chest. "Zelgadis-san. Nearly three years ago, you were a chimera, a ghastly being with skin made of crude stone and a heart that you forced into numbness."

Zelgadis did not blanch at his words.

"You had traveled so far and for so long to find your cure, only to be met with brutal disappointment at your every attempt. You even went as far as to find the Clair Bible, the ancient knowledge of the Water Dragon King. And yet, it was not you who were allowed access to its vast knowledge, but rather your companion."

Zelgadis clenched his fists at the memory of being so close to finding the answer, only to have Lina snatch the chance instead. At least it was to save the world.

"After the defeat of Dark Star, you continued on your search once again to even greater lengths. You decided to search for your great-grandfather's colleagues, for Rezo the Red Priest was only one of five. First, you gained word of Shazaard the Great, another Sage who had worked with Rezo and me on numerous accounts, and you sought him out in the Desert of Destruction. Alas, Shazaard knew nothing about your cure, for his focus was on black magic and the creation of magical items."

"But he knew about the curse. He was there when Rezo studied it in the first place," Zelgadis cut in, albeit impatiently. Was it really necessary for Luo to lecture him on his own life story?

"Yes, as was I. Rezo came across the curse on one of our journeys. However, he knew of the serious results that it would cause, and he wanted to make certain that there was someone with the ability to counteract it. I was younger than the Red Priest, but I'd devoted my entire life to the research of white magic and was more than qualified to perform the task. For that reason, he entrusted me with this duty."

The ex-chimera briefly recalled the immense relief that had flooded his stone-cold heart when Shazaard Lugandi had relayed that story to him. But it was a bittersweet feeling, for it had been the greatest hope he had encompassed thus far, which also meant it would have been the greatest disappointment if the information had turned out to be another false lead.

Luo wasn't done speaking yet. "Rezo and I had made a deal. If he were to ever cast that spell, I had to be present. Up until two years ago, I thought he had kept his word. However, when you appeared on my doorstep one afternoon, I was forced to open my eyes to the truth. Rezo had broken our pact and betrayed me."

"Betrayed _you?_"

Luo continued on, ignoring the ex-chimera's sarcastic remark. "I had not practiced the cure in years, and Rezo's magic was incredibly strong. But within a day I was able to erase the golem from within you. Another day passed, and I was able to cleanse your soul of the demon that had plagued it. You became human."

One would think that the memory would have brought a thankful smile to Zelgadis's expression, but he portrayed a look of disgust instead. True, he had regained his human form, but the consequences…

"Alas, you were a weakling," Luo read his mind. "After discovering how diminished your strength, speed, and magical skills had truly become, you asked for my assistance once more. You remembered that along with studying white magic, I was also a fierce trainer of the art of the sword. And under my mentoring and guidance, you trained intensively for the past two and a half years to regain the skills you once had as a chimera."

Zelgadis lifted one hand before him as his listened to the Great Sage's words, his hardened glare tracing over the scars and calluses that marred his skin. Yes, he had trained every single day under Luo Glaon's rule, something that very few people could say about themselves. There were days when he thought he would die from the sheer exhaustion of his mentor's rigorous training, and he couldn't remember how many times he had thrown up or fainted from fatigue. But his hard work and perseverance had paid off, for what he had accomplished within two and a half years was something that most others would have acquired within ten.

The Sage began to move then, circling slowly around Zelgadis like a vulture. "Once again, you now have the speed and magical skills of a demon, and the strength and endurance of a golem. You are ready to venture out into the world," he concluded with an air of confidence and finality.

Zelgadis clenched his hand into a tight fist. "It's no simple matter to reunite with them."

"Your friends?" Luo clarified. "You have not spoken to them since the battle with Dark Star."

"Exactly."

"You fear they may be angry."

"Not really," Zelgadis objected, dropping his arm. "But yes, they will berate me for not keeping in touch."

"But their accusations would be correct, would they not?"

"That's not the point," Zelgadis argued. "I had always planned to seek them out once I returned to my human self. But…" That look of revulsion overcame his features once again. "I was too ashamed of my weakened state. If they did not laugh at my freakish chimeric appearance before, then surely they would have mocked me for my pathetic feebleness that replaced it. And I didn't need that to distract me from my training."

Luo rested a beefy hand on his pupil's shoulder in an act of consolation. "Zelgadis-san, I understood your desire to hide away at the beginning, and that is why I never pressed you for information about your friends, or urged you to contact them. But you have risen to, if not succeeded above, the level that you were once at."

"…Yes."

"Your friends have always stood beside you, and even aided you at times during your quest to be cured. But now, it is one of them who might need your help."

"…"

"So I'll ask you again, will you go to her, or will you abandon her?"

Zelgadis stared up into the gaunt face of his mentor, an internal struggle waging within his heart. Lina and Gourry would be easy to handle, should he cross paths with the duo. A full-course meal would earn their forgiveness on just about anything.

But…what about Amelia?

The last thing he wanted to do was lead the princess to believe he shared the same feelings that she had for him, and if he suddenly showed up in Seyruun, there was a great possibility of that happening. On the other hand, he had no idea if she still even possessed said feelings. She _had_ been rather young, and besides, they hadn't even contacted each other in over two years.

She had tried, of course. She had written him countless letters while he researched for his cure in Zefielia, but must have lost track of him once he traveled into the Desert of Destruction in search for Shazaard the Great. Various lines from her letters ran through his head, pricking his heart with unwanted guilt.

_"Zelgadis-san, how have you been? You know you're welcome in Seyruun anytime!"_

_"Zelgadis-san, where are you now? None of us have heard from you in such a long time!"_

_"Zelgadis-san, why aren't you responding to any of my letters? Are you okay? Please write back! It's horribly rude to make a friend worry like this!" _

Her last letter sounded so urgent that he finally caved in almost six months later and wrote to her once he reached Luo's small town in Elmekia, but he kept it curt and impersonal, and gave no indication of his whereabouts. It simply said that he was doing just fine, and that he would be unable to talk for a little while.

_But, a little while turned into six months, and then a year, and then two…_

Why should he feel any obligation to her, anyway? She had plenty of soldiers and bodyguards to protect her. Lina and Gourry probably stopped by Seyruun all the time to visit. And of course Crown Prince Philionel would throw himself in danger's way to protect his precious daughter. So if he wasn't even needed, why should he bother taking the time and effort to go to her when he could remain with the Glaon couple and continue his training?

Her horror-stricken face flashed through his mind; a gleaming blade sticking out from her chest, black mist tearing at her flesh, her sapphire eyes glaring at him.

_'How could you do this to me?'_

Zelgadis swallowed thickly, gazing out at the same horizon that his mentor's attention had been so fixated upon earlier, knowing that his heart had made the decision ever since he first had that wretched nightmare. He found himself repeating words that he had spoken years ago.

"To think that we'd meet again like this," he sighed. "Such is destiny."

So after supper, Zelgadis packed his belongings and gracefully swung himself onto one of Luo's horses, and with one last wave to the couple that had housed him for over two years, he was off.

Kara held back the tears that were slowly building like watery walls, and she tossed her long braid over her shoulder. While she was a bit disappointed that he had taken the notebook and bracelet along with him (she would have loved more ample time to investigate them), she was thankful that he did leave something behind.

Now she could officially throw away that God-awful beige apparel.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Slayers.


	3. Distanced

**Author's Notes:** I'd just like to say here that Luo Glaon isn't an original character – I did my research, and he is indeed one of the five Great Sages. Kara, however, is my own creation. Luo needed a wife, after all. :)

Also...I hate this site. The document manager sucks. I took the time to unclump all the paragraphs and sort out the italicized words...but if I missed a couple mistakes, I am sorry. Anyone know how to prevent this from happening in the future?

**Summary: **After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...

* * *

**Chapter Two  
**'distanced'

_Why's what's best for you  
__Always the worst thing for me?_

Nickelback

_- -_

The vortex was a never-ending array of bright colors against a dark backdrop, a void with puffs of mist that stretched out into eternity in shapes of spirals and cyclones. It was like a shimmering painting, always shifting and changing, hypnotic and breathtakingly magnificent. One would never expect it to house such a great evil.

He stepped into the swirls of colors, let the bright energy swath his form and consume his every sense. He lost himself within the abyss of power, relished in the feeling of pure and beautiful Chaos feasting on his body. It tore at his mind and blindingly invaded his sight, flashing a vivid image through his head in dazzling pain; a scene that portrayed a stunning young woman obliviously dancing away at a gala, twirling with her partner to music only those in the room could hear. She dipped and spun and laughed, knowing nothing about the dark force that scrutinized her from afar, knowing nothing about her destiny with him. Chaos put him so close that he could almost reach out and touch her smiling image, teasing his desire for her.

He laughed when agony flared through his skull again as another illusion exploded in his mind, only this time he saw a man on a horse, trotting closer and closer to where the girl was. Far too close for comfort, and Chaos was never wrong.

"Kreoss."

His servant knelt behind him, head bowed with an arm across his chest in a proper salute. "I'm here."

"Come closer."

His heart raced with adrenaline, as it always had in Chaos' presence, and he slowly stood and approached his master. Coming close to Chaos would turn even the strongest human mad; they would be plagued with an assault of horrifying, bloody images of grisly death and twisted corpses. Excruciating sensations of torture and anguish would burn them from the inside until it made them wretch and vomit. And the absolute emotions of panic, terror, and depression would squeeze their heart in permanence.

But Kreoss was far from human, and he had turned mad long ago.

He stared straight into the mesmerizing colorful vortex without fear, was close to losing himself in it too until his master emerged, a sphere of energy hovering above an outstretched palm. "Look," he commanded, showing his servant what Chaos had so generously given to him.

Kreoss stared longingly at the swirling mass of colors, felt the hunger for it tug on his mind in greed. He wanted to give into it, let Chaos take him over, but his master always forbade him; he wasn't ready yet, his master would say. Not until their ranks were complete. And Kreoss understood, because as much as he wished to be one with Chaos, he wanted her even more. So he resisted the temptation to let it absorb him and leaned in closer to the picture it displayed.

His brows furrowed in concentration and then rose in surprise. "Zelgadis?" he whispered wonderingly to himself.

"You know him?"

Kreoss's eyes immediately narrowed, and he promptly looked away. "Yes," he murmured.

"I do not know how, but he has picked up on my plans. There is no room for his interference."

"You wish for me to dispose of him?" His cool voice was oddly neutral, controlled. But Kreoss knew it was only because his rage was simply beyond being portrayed through his tone.

His master's hand snapped into a fist with sheer ferocity, the energy dispersing back into the void in smoky spirals. "Time is of utter importance. Do not fail me," his voice rumbled.

A gateway suddenly appeared ahead of them, and Kreoss took that as his cue to leave. "As you wish, my lord," he assured, stepping ahead toward the portal. And while he felt the familiar hurt and loss of being torn away from Chaos, he did not look back. He needed to fulfill an even greater purpose, he mused with a potent yearning. He needed her.

The superior being returned to his studying of the multidimensional colors. His free hand lightly glided over the shimmering surface, fingers skimming along the brilliant haze as fragments of the illusion broke through to his mind's eye again, of the girl with eyes the color of the ocean and a heart that was just as deep.

"Dress warm, Princess. I wouldn't want you getting sick."

- -

_The air was thick with mixed scents of powders and perfumes, the sweet aroma curling tenaciously below my nostrils. My stomach churned feverishly, and I could feel the bitter taste of vomit scorch my throat. I braced myself against the smooth marble post of the grand stairway._

_"Amelia! Are you all right?" I glanced up at my father, instantly blinded by the blazing torchlight reflected off of his glittering crown. I clenched my eyes shut and gripped the post tighter as another surge of nausea flooded my stomach._

_No, I wasn't all right. Something was wrong – very wrong. I could feel it rattling in my bones, quaking in my righteous heart; an intense anxiety that swathed me inside and out. I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe. I needed to escape._

_I felt my father's heavy hand settle on my forehead, the cool silk of his bulbous sleeve lightly tickling my face. "You're quite warm," he stated worriedly. Gazing at him through my tear-soaked eyelashes, I could see threads of concern woven into the tiny wrinkles that framed his eyes and mouth._

_"I'm fine, Daddy," I choked out, trying to muster a smile. "It's just awfully stuffy and warm in here." My eyes scanned over the opulent ballroom, observing the dancing royals and chortling nobles. Thankfully, no one seemed to be noticing my little episode._

_"Why don't you step out onto the veranda for some fresh air?" Daddy suggested kindly, now adjusting the diamond-encrusted tiara perched upon my head._

_"No…no, I think I'd rather just retire for the evening," I said weakly._

_Disapproval flashed through Daddy's eyes, but he nodded, albeit desolately. "Of course, if you're not feeling well," he allowed. "But Amelia, these sovereigns and noblemen have come to see you. They'll be disappointed upon notice of your departure…"_

_I smiled apologetically, one foot already on the bottom stair. "All is well, Daddy. At any rate, I'm not that good of company when ill."_

_Daddy sighed and nodded again, smiling understandingly. "All right, then."_

_I hugged him thankfully and began my trek up the colossal staircase. The heels of my silver slippers sunk into the plush red carpet that trailed each step, and I was tempted to collapse right there on that haven of crimson velvet. _

_I gripped the varnished banister resolutely and continued ascending. I was merely paranoid. This nausea could only be a simple bug. Nothing is going to happen._

_Nothing is going to happen…_

_- -_

Amelia kept repeating the mantra to herself as she continued on the way to her bedroom, feeling her body weaken by the second. It was as if her very life-force dissolved with every step she took, and she was forced to lean heavily against the wall in order to stay upright. Closer and closer she came to her sanctuary – past her father's chambers, past a statue of the legendary Flare Dragon Ceipheid, past her sister's abandoned bedroom, and finally, when she thought she couldn't stay on her own two feet any longer, she arrived at the cherry wood door with the words 'Princess Amelia' carved into it's glossy surface, and feebly pushed it open.

Her four-poster canopy bed had never looked as inviting as it did then. Finely dressed in its soft white linens and satin comforters, it literally shone like a feathery cloud beneath the moonlight that surged through the windows. And with an unceremonious grace that was very unbecoming of a princess, Amelia threw herself onto it. Layers of silk and velvet wrapped awkwardly around her legs, but she was much too exhausted to rearrange the material. She clenched her eyes shut and grit her teeth against another wave of sickness, her fingers snarling themselves within her ebony hair.

_Gods, make it stop._ She had no choice but to pray to the heavens, for casting a healing spell on her own would have taken even more exertion, and she very much doubted that she would have been able to focus well enough.

Gently pushing herself over onto her back, Amelia hollowly gazed up at the stretch of white that was her canopy. _"I want to become a bird," _she started to sing softly, her voice horribly breathy and uneven_, "and fly in the sky." _She bit her lip as her stomach churned again, but forced herself to keep singing. _"Searching out a far-off, distant hope…"_

Memories of her late mother's beautiful voice flooded her mind, and Amelia continued to sing the melody that the deceased woman had often sung to her whenever the princess had fallen ill. She allowed her eyes to drift close as she imagined herself curled up in her mother's lap, sitting in a rocking chair out in the gazebo while basking in the balmy sunshine. The song had always made her feel better back then, physically or otherwise, and Amelia was hoping for it to still have the same desired effect.

_"…If I can search out my tiny self so far below, then even getting hurt, or what will come tomorrow won't scare me." The_ song over, she slowly opened her eyes and let out a deep, cleansing breath, thankful that the nausea had subsided by a great deal.

_Mama…thank you…_

Amelia laid there for several more minutes, afraid to move, but eventually coaxed her trembling form into a sitting position. Dizziness still crowded her, but seemingly at a much more tolerable level. Taking this as encouragement, she gingerly slipped off her shoes and pushed her legs over the edge of the bed, and then placed her shaking hands on one of the bedposts for support as she shifted her weight onto her feet.

While the nausea had settled into a minor stomach ache, she still felt horribly weak and was desperate for some fresh air. She clumsily staggered her way to the set of double doors that led to her balcony and hastily threw them open to welcome the late night winds. Her bare feet stepped onto smooth marble, and she walked over to the stone railing and rested her elbows on its surface.

The sky was a canvas of navy hues, housing a full moon that glowed like a silver medallion over the quiet streets of Seyruun. She had an eerie feeling that she was being watched, like she always suspected as of late, but shrugged it off. She figured that most of the commoners were tucked away in their homes by this time of the night, and the majority of the kingdom's nobles were dancing joyously within the castle's ballroom below.

Amelia sighed with that thought, laying her chin in the palm of her hand. There had been so many royal functions as of late, ever since her courtship with Prince Zane of Ralteague had officially come to an end. She wasn't necessarily pressed to find a husband quite yet, but with so many proposals flurrying in every day, she was required to at least give the candidates a chance to present themselves before her. Galas had to be planned, feasts were to be prepared, banquets needed to be organized; the whole process was even more tiresome than facing a dark lord.

The princess had bravely endured it for a full six months after the defeat of Dark Star, adamantly denying every male that fought to win her over. Frustration grew among the council members as well as her own father, but Amelia just couldn't hand her future over to someone else – not without her heart, which she had already given to someone else.

It was a single, short, insensitive letter that had made her change her mind, one that she received when she was the most vulnerable she had ever been in her life. She had no reason to stop the planning of any festivities after that.

Amelia felt the tears well up, and she bowed her head in defeat. They were all good men, but turning a marriage into a business deal just wasn't something she could stomach. And she felt awful for it. She had had the promise of a wonderful future with any of them, a union between kingdoms that people would rejoice in. What kind of unfair person was she to throw away all of that for a man that even she doubted would ever return? How could she disappoint everyone like that? How could she be so selfish?

Her eyes hardened in quiet defiance as the defensive part of her brain kicked in.

How come none of her suitors could have that deep, velvety voice that comforted her nightly within the private confines of her chambers? The silky tone that chased away the raucous whispers that so yearned to haunt her? She had her baggage, her enemies, her demons, things that a pretty and proper princess was not meant to ever be burdened with. And that history, while kept secret to only her and her family, was certainly not suitable for any prince to handle. This, she was sure of.

But perhaps a cursed swordsman, who had been through a lifetime of pain himself, was more appropriate for it.

The princess pushed herself away from the stone railing and headed back into her room, intentionally leaving the balcony doors open. She seated herself before her vanity mirror, removed her tiara and the various ornaments and pins that held her elaborate hairstyle together. Her raven tresses fell loose around her shoulders, now free from their prior restraint, and she then went about the task of removing her make-up.

Amelia crudely gazed at herself in the mirror, nearly ashamed of the weary, defeated image presented before her. Was this all she was underneath the glamour and make-up when times got rough? A broken shell of the vibrant girl she was known to be? She pressed her fingers to her lips then, where the skin around her mouth was smooth and clear – unscarred. Her own healing had made sure of that. But when her hand dropped down to her belly, she grimaced with disdain. There, she would be marked forever. Branded.

She looked away in disgust and stood, undoing the clasps of her ball gown. The expensive material pooled around her feet and she stepped away from it, knowing that the maid would hang it up in the morning. She pulled out a short white silk nightgown from her dresser and slipped it over her head, savoring in the feel of its smooth texture against her clammy skin.

Was she crazy to prefer stone instead of silk?

Walking over to her heavenly cloud of a bed, she climbed underneath the covers, rested her back against the headboard. A look of fearful hesitance flitted across her face as she stared dubiously at her nightstand, softly wringing her hands together. After a few more minutes of debate, she reached over and pulled out the drawer, displaying a thick pile of parchments – letters. She bypassed the marriage requests, skipped through the banquet invitations, went beyond the letters from her old traveling companions, and stopped once she got to the last letter of the pile. Her heart beating painfully, she pulled it out and held it to her breast, already having memorized every single word.

_Amelia,_

_I apologize for not writing to you sooner, but I was busy with my search. I won't be able to correspond for a while, but I hope things are going well for you. Please don't worry about me – I will make a trip to Seyruun soon enough._

_Zelgadis Greywords_

After the pages and pages of letters she had sent him, this was the only thing she had ever gotten in return just days after the search party had uncovered her. And, she noted tearfully, it was only a lie, for he had never once returned to Seyruun. She spitefully tossed the parchment on top of the rest.

Too rattled with emotions to sleep just yet, she pulled out her journal and quill – something she had grown used to doing whenever too many thoughts would clog her brain. Propping the notebook on her lap, she turned to a blank page, and began to transfer her muddled thoughts and turbulent emotions onto paper.

_Dear Journal,_

_Who would've thought that this would have such a huge impact on me? I never imagined it would be this hard. You can lay a situation out before you, detect every single reason why not to feel any pain or loss, but those feelings are just so easily resurrected with a glance at a letter. Isn't that odd, how your mind can be on a completely different page than your heart? Yes, odd – and utterly frustrating. I suppose you can only control what you think, but not how you feel._

_I understand why I might have been labeled back then as immature, but I'm nineteen now, an adult. I've seen things, I've been through things. Why do I still feel like I'm being punished, as if I were some misbehaved child? Why am I not even being given a chance? Do I maybe not deserve one? Am I not the right person for him after all?_

_Do his friends really mean so little to him? Love is one thing, but are personal achievements always going to triumph? Is it wrong to want to be caught in the arms that are already filled with the task of taking care of himself? Am I a bad person for desiring that? _

_So many questions. But I know justice will prevail for the both of us. It has to._

_Mama…I feel so alone. I can't talk to Daddy about these things. I wish you or Gracia were still here. _

It wasn't until she saw the blotches splattering across the page that Amelia noticed she was crying. Biting her lip and forcing herself to breathe deeply, she gently set her journal back in the drawer and fully slid underneath the covers.

That night she dreamt of rocking chairs and lullabies, and an unfamiliar man with dark brown hair and crystalline sky blue eyes that battled within a cyclone of black mist.

_"You'll be okay, Amelia," he whispered tenderly. "We'll deal with this."_

The stranger's words brought a warm sense of comfort to her heart, and she let herself be whisked away into the darkness that accompanied the enticing beckon of a deep sleep.

_This is love…_

_- -_

"This sucks."

Zelgadis grunted and kicked a rock into a nearby stream, satisfied with the angry plunk it made as it sank into the murky water. He had been on the road for nearly two weeks – more than enough time for him to get to Seyruun on horseback. But it seemed that the closer he got, the denser this annoying fog became, and he increasingly found himself at a loss for which direction to take.

A low growl emitted from his throat as he heatedly combed his fingers through his hair and looked up at the dark sky. Seyruun couldn't be much farther, but it was highly unlikely that he would reach it while it was foggy and dark…

_'How could you do this to me?'_

After a few more minutes of pondering it, Zelgadis narrowed his eyes and turned to the steed behind him. "To hell with it," he muttered as he mounted himself gracefully and grabbed the reigns. "Let's go."

He urged him and his horse forward into the thickening mist at a healthy trot, careful not to go too fast so that he could still maneuver through the trees. Seyruun was supposed to be just beyond this forest, and he prayed that he was going in the right direction.

His thoughts wandered to the princess, and what he would say to her upon his arrival. What could he say? No matter what, anything was going to seem lame and awkward.

_'Hi, Amelia. I'm sorry I've only written to you once in the past three years. Oh, and I'm human again, in case you haven't noticed.'_

Zelgadis snorted and rolled his eyes. Yeah, that would go over well.

A sudden eerie chill went up his spine, and he tugged on the reigns to bring the steed to a halt. He warily swept his gaze around the forest, although he couldn't see very much in the dark. But he could feel something. He could feel himself being watched. Which meant that somebody was watching him.

Zelgadis never did like to be stared at.

"Who's there?" he growled in a low and controlled voice, tensing in preparation to leap off his saddle should something step forward.

Something did step forward. Zelgadis kept his eyes trained on the whirling fog ahead of him as he saw the shape of a person begin to appear, and he immediately swung himself down to the ground. Hand flying to his sword, he crouched in a battle stance.

"Who are you?"

The figure stopped, and Zelgadis took note of its large, square frame and broad shoulders – a male. He saw that he was heavily garbed in a thick cloak that grandly draped around his entire frame, and its hood cast a shadow across his face, making it impossible to discern his features.

A light chuckle ensued from the stranger. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

A sense of déjà vu overcame the ex-chimera, and he hesitated before drawing his sword in one smooth motion. _Do I know him?_

"You raise your sword so soon?" There was cockiness in his tone, though he himself wielded no weapon that Zelgadis could see.

He faltered again, and tightened his grip on the leather hilt of his sword. "What do you want?" he asked tersely.

Another ghostly chortle, laced with bitterness this time. "What do I want? I want you to stay away, Zelgadis."

Zelgadis drew in a sharp breath, but didn't lower his sword. "How do you know me?"

"I wish I didn't. I despise you," the man droned, slowly backing away. "You're not supposed to be part of this. Know your place. Turn around and go home."

Zelgadis ran forward to where the man had stood, but as quickly as he had come, he had faded away again.

_A Mazoku?_

He stood bewildered, hands clenching and unclenching in irritation and confusion. The man knew his name. The man knew _him_. The fact greatly unsettled the swordsman, and he angrily turned around and mounted the steed again.

He went at a much faster pace than before.

_- -_

"Halt, stranger! State your business in Seyruun."

"My name is Zelgadis Greywords. I've come to see Princess Amelia."

"Nonsense! Sir Greywords is a chimera."

The shamanist sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "I have found my cure. I promised the princess that I would return to her once my search was over."

_But I didn't._

The watchmen that stood guarding the palace gates gave each other a look of mutual suspicion, and the taller one cleared his throat before turning back to the traveler. "The princess has given us orders to always allow you to pass through. However, we need proof of your identity."

Zelgadis grit his jaw in annoyance. "Proof?"

"Yes," the shorter one chimed in. "Those were her orders."

A pondering frown creased his brow, and his gaze fell on the grandiose castle that stood proudly behind the guards. _She said that I would need to prove myself…? That doesn't sound like Amelia. She trusts me more than that._

An idea suddenly came to him, and with a sly grin, he slowly reached to the canteen latched onto his hip and dislodged an item that was carefully wrapped around the lid._ It's a test. She wanted to see if I would keep it._

"Here," he tossed the bracelet to the shorter watchman. "That belongs to her."

The guard closely inspected it, and then handed it to his partner with amazed intrigue. "Isn't that…?

"Ah," the other guard nodded, a sad smile spreading across his wise features. "Princess Alana's bracelet."

Zelgadis shook his head in surprise, not sure if he had heard correctly. "No, that's not right. It belongs to Amelia."

The taller watchman raised his gaze to meet the mounted traveler's. "Aye, now it does," he softly agreed, handing the jewelry back to Zelgadis. "But it was first her mother's."

The other guard nodded forlornly. "Yes. It's a piece of a jewelry set that belonged to Crown Princess Alana, and it was all supposed to be handed down to Princess Gracia…" he trailed off, but the others knew why the transaction hadn't occurred. Princess Gracia Ul Naga Seyruun had run away soon after the death of her mother.

"A.S." Zelgadis thought aloud. "So it really stands for Alana Seyruun." He wasn't quite sure how the woman had passed away, and though his curiosity gnawed at him gallingly, he thought better than to ask.

Both guards nodded desolately at the memory of the late Crown Princess, and they each respectfully stepped aside to allow the traveler to pass. "You'll have to dismount your horse," the shorter one explained. "We'll take him to the stables, so don't worry."

Zelgadis reluctantly did as he was told, and the taller guard took the mount by its reigns. "You might be asked to go through the same procedure once you reach the front doors, but once you do, I believe you'll find Princess Amelia in the ballroom."

He had no intention of attending any frivolous party, but the ex-chimera nodded and passed through the gates without another word.

He kept to the shadows mostly, dodging around patrolling guards to avoid unwanted confrontation – he only had to put a couple of them to sleep. He stealthily traveled to the side of the palace where he knew there was a wide floor-to-ceiling window that portrayed the ballroom beyond, and crept to the edge of it to peer inside, eyes scanning over the opulent crowd.

Of course he instantly spotted Prince Philionel, who by far stood taller than anyone there. Several other older men flanked him on both sides as he pumped his fists through the air in enthusiastic hand gestures, clearly trying to get his point across to the other nobles. They would nod excitedly in response, brows drawn together and mouths moving in animated speech and then sipping from goblets filled with rich wine. Politics, Zelgadis assumed. And then there were the brilliant colors that moved like fireworks, exploding radiantly in his vision as women twirled and curtseyed and were spun across the dance floor, skirts of elegant gowns billowing around slender legs as they danced with…men.

Lots and lots of men. What were all of those men doing in Seyruun? And…where was Amelia? After several minutes of searching for the princess and coming up with no results, he came to the obvious conclusion that she wasn't there.

_Then where could she be?_

Zelgadis slowly started to back up, raising his probing gaze to the levels above the ballroom.

…And almost yelped as he scrambled to hide behind a tree.

There, standing regally on the balcony and overlooking the streets of Seyruun, was the princess herself. Zelgadis bit his lip as he stared at her from behind his hiding spot, praying that she hadn't had spotted him. But judging from the hollow expression on her face, he knew that he was in the clear.

With a sigh of relief, he continued to watch her. What was she doing? She was just standing there, pointlessly staring, mulling over _something._ But what could be so important for her to think about while there was a festive gala going on right below her? She was even dressed for the event, he noticed, wearing a diamond tiara and a strapless turquoise ball gown that fit tightly around her torso and flared dramatically at the waist.

He unwillingly admitted to himself that she looked beautiful. The only drawback was the sadness that clung to her like a smothering cloak, and Zelgadis felt his heart wrench when he saw her hang her head and retreat back into her chambers.

The doors had been left open, and he felt an internal struggle rise within him.

_She's okay._ His fingernails dug into the bark of the tree anxiously. _I'll leave now, and go back into town and stay at an inn to plan out my strategy. She'll still be here tomorrow._

Many minutes passed as he mulled it over, and still he didn't move, his eyes never leaving the open set of double doors as his thoughts turned to the cause of the princess's sadness. He had only seen Amelia so distraught once before, and that was when she thought her father had been assassinated. He had shadowed her every step during that crisis, watched over her, guarded her. Most of the time, she didn't even know. He could easily trail her without alerting her of his presence. And now the doors were so invitingly and innocently wide open.

"Oh hells," he muttered before casting a Ray Wing and floating up to her balcony. He silently landed on the marble base and tiptoed over to the doorway, careful to stay by the edge to prevent from being spotted. He needn't have worried, though; the princess was nestled cozily in her bed and fast asleep.

_She's asleep. She's fine._

Before he could stop himself, he glided craftily into the lavish room, the growing desire to see her easily extinguishing the warning signals that screamed in his head. She was cut open by her own hand in his nightmares, creamy skin torn to bits. It was so gruesome, blood and tears and flesh – he needed to see her up close, make sure she wasn't hurt. He drifted closer and closer, not daring to even breathe, for he would surely find himself in a rather compromising situation should she wake.

Amelia suddenly bolted upright, an arm outstretched with a finger pointing at him accusingly. "Halt, villain!"

Zelgadis froze as his heart leapt into his throat. _Dammit, what do I do, what do I say?_ But then, with great relief, he noticed that her eyes were still closed. He let out a shaky breath as she fell back onto her pillows, sound asleep.

_I need to get out of here._

But he hadn't seen her yet, not really, and so he continued to walk towards her, stopping once he was only inches away from the bed. The moonlight fell over her, setting her pale skin ablaze with a silver brilliance – a beautiful contrast to the onyx hair of hers that fanned across her pillow like silk. One of the straps of her nightgown had slipped down her shoulder, and Zelgadis gently reached over to pull it back up.

She had changed, though only a little. Her hair had grown a few inches, now reaching her shoulders. And judging from her outline beneath the satin comforter, he assumed that she had grown some in height as well, but possibly only two or three inches at most. Her face had not changed; it still retained that certain childlike quality that had always endeared him in the past.

He gently sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands. He knew he shouldn't have been there in such close proximity with the princess; it was sneaky, improper, and – in her words – unjust. He had no right to trespass into her bedroom – not after shunning her like he did, not even just to check on her. She would've shut and locked the doors if she'd known. She would've posted bodyguards in the hall and more watchmen at the gates. She had every source of personal protection at her fingertips. She didn't need him.

Finally regaining his senses, Zelgadis made to stand up, but a slight moan immediately stopped him. He looked back at the princess once more, her face suddenly contorted in panic.

"Why," she whimpered, and he detected tiny trails of water trickling from beneath her eyelids.

She was crying in her sleep, he realized with horror.

"…Trapped," she mumbled again. Zelgadis reached his hand out to her and a brushed a few strands of her obsidian tresses away from her face. What had happened to her? What could concern her enough to make her cry in her sleep?

"No," he spoke softly, but firmly. "You'll be okay, Amelia. We'll deal with this."

He had no idea what provoked him to say such a thing, but his words seemed to quiet her, and she drifted back off into what he hoped was a peaceful slumber. And he sat there for a long, long while, simply watching her, prepared to fight off anymore disturbances in her sleep.

* * *

**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own Slayers.


	4. Betrayal

**Author's Notes:** Man, I sure miss the old Amelia. I think I'll bring her back for a bit.

**Summary:** After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**'betrayal'

_You stand before me, now we stare eye to eye  
__Before another second clicks away, one of us will die._

3 Doors Down

- -

When she awoke, it was to a most peculiar combination of scents that laced the air – lavender and sandalwood, she realized, dreamily inhaling the aroma. Her eyes lazily slid open to seek out the source of the intriguing scents, but upon scanning her room, she found none.

_That's odd. I only use vanilla perfume. _A tiny, persistent itch in the back of Amelia's mind told her that there was something different about the room, but she just couldn't put her finger on it.

Dismissing the subject with calm indifference, she heaved herself out from under her cozy satin cocoon and sighed in wonderful contentment when she stretched her arms upward, bouncing happily on the balls of her feet. Despite the horror of the night before, she had slept amazingly well – a surprising fact, considering that she hadn't had a good night's worth of sleep in several weeks. She wasn't sure why the previous night had been different from the others; she only knew that she had felt cared for and protected, as if something had been watching over her.

_How silly,_ she teased to herself, and shrugged it off before sauntering over to her bathroom for a quick shower.

Once she emerged in a fluffy blue robe feeling more refreshed than she had in ages, she practically skipped into her walk-in closet to get dressed. Usually the maids would come in and lie something out for her to wear while she was in the shower, but it seemed that she had awoken before they had the chance to do so. It didn't matter – Amelia was happy to choose her own outfit. The dress she chose was of a stark white color with bulbous off-the-shoulder sleeves that ended at the elbow and a skirt that gracefully swept the floor. A silver sash around the waist finished off the look. It was a simple dress with no design embroidered into its downy chiffon material, but it looked just as lovely on her as any extravagant ball gown would.

She gathered her dark hair into a high ponytail and secured it with a white ribbon before settling down in front of her vanity mirror to prepare her make-up. While she applied the various blushes and powders, she gladly noted that some color had returned to her cheeks, and a light smile was constantly playing across her glossed lips.

_It's amazing how a good night's sleep can rejuvenate you! I'll certainly need the energy later on in the week._

She cheerfully bounced on her velvet perch at the thought. Lina Inverse's twenty-first birthday was fast approaching, and Amelia had asked her father for permission to throw a party. Philionel agreed, of course, because it would have been unjust to deny the world's savior of a decent birthday celebration. Lina and Gourry weren't going to arrive for another several days, which was just as well since Amelia still had many preparations to tend to.

She gingerly picked up a white gold chain and clasped it around her neck. The sapphire gem that adorned it had once been sewn into her old mage's outfit as a brooch, but she had removed it after her travels to wear it as a necklace.

Her eyes glimmered with sadness when she remembered who she had given one of the matching bracelets to.

_"Here," she said, holding the dainty piece of jewelry in her outstretched palm. "A parting gift, since you can't come back to Seyruun with me."_

_He was shocked by what she was offering him, and quickly stammered a refusal. "I couldn't possibly take that, Amelia."_

_The princess didn't waver, and only grinned cheekily as she reached her hand out even farther. "I'm only loaning it to you, Zelgadis-san. I want it back, okay?"_

_He stared at the presented piece of jewelry, hesitation clearly showing in his eyes. And then, very slowly, he lifted his hand to retrieve the gift, his rough fingertips lightly grazing across the smooth skin of her palm. He had expected her to flinch at the contact, she could tell, but she didn't respond at all – she only kept smiling as her arm dropped back to her side, pleased with what she had accomplished._

Only now it seemed more like a failure.

Refusing to let her spirits drop so easily, she shook her head and donned a pair of dangling sapphire earrings and a simple tiara to match, and then bounced away from her vanity, drifting towards her door to greet the day. It was when she reached for the knob that she suddenly froze, slowly turning to face the interior of her chambers once again.

What had been different about the room before had finally become apparent, and her brow creased in puzzlement.

When Amelia had come in from the balcony the night before, she had left the doors open like she did every night. It was a habit that she had grown accustomed to performing for a couple of years now, to help put her mind at ease from feeling claustrophobic. No matter how big the room was, she always felt more comfortable with some outlet that led the way to an escape.

But now, the doors were closed.

- -

Zelgadis frustratingly tapped his fingers against the wooden table, chin resting in his other palm. He had chosen to eat breakfast in a small restaurant on the outskirts of the city, desperate to place some distance between him and the palace. He was incredibly angry with himself for getting so carried away the night before. He trespassed into a princess's bedroom, and even sat on her bed to watch her sleep. What in the hells had he been thinking?

With a weary sigh, he fell back in his chair and smoothed his hands over his face. He had just wanted to see her, plain and simple. It had been three years since they parted ways, and those damn nightmares had him driven with the intense desire to merely look at her, to make sure she was alright. He didn't want to admit it, but those dreams had affected him more than he would've liked.

_Then I need to get a grip, fast._

"Excuse me, sir. Are you ready to order?"

Zelgadis looked up at the sound of the waitress's nasal voice and let his hands fall to his lap. "Yes," he affirmed, but then realized that he had completely lost his appetite. Or maybe he hadn't had one to begin with. "Er, I'll just have a cup of coffee, thank you."

The waitress nodded and wandered away, leaving Zelgadis alone to mull over his despairing thoughts once more.

He wanted to kick himself for actually falling asleep during the night. It was a stupid risk that he had taken; what would have happened if she had woken to find him there, curled up next to her on her own bed? Would she have even recognized him? No, not at first, Zelgadis reasoned. Thank goodness his body was used to rising with the sun due to Luo's all-day-every-day training schedule.

He resumed the rhythmic action of drumming his fingers against the table top. He needed to approach her before the day ended, and he had no clue how to go about doing so.

_"Hi, Amelia, it's been a while. Well actually, it hasn't been that long for me because I flew into your bedroom last night while you were sleeping. I even zonked out right next to you. Hope you don't mind."_

He snorted in disgust. Yeah, that was a _great_ way to start off their reunion.

The waitress returned with his coffee, and Zelgadis gratefully lifted the porcelain cup to his lips. Coffee was always there for him. Coffee always made things better. As long as he had his coffee, everything would be okay.

Before he was even able to take a sip, however, he found his attention suddenly fastened to the tall figure sashaying towards him, garbed in only a slinky black dress that outlined a shapely set of curves and exposed a large expanse of golden skin. Her long, waist-length black hair flowed behind her elegantly, and her hips held a seductive sway as she gracefully kept her balance on a pair of high-heeled stilettos.

Before he could grunt in surprise or even blink, the woman drew herself onto his lap and lowered her head, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss that left his eyes as wide as saucers. The shock soon wore off, though; it was far from being his first kiss, and the sheer obscenity of it generated more anger than lust. He falteringly plunked his coffee cup onto the table before shoving her away.

"Wh-What do you think you're doing?" he sputtered irritably, leaning away from her and turning his head to one side in evasion.

The woman only threw her head back and released a string of obnoxious laughter, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She stood, lifting her own cup off of the table. "Enjoy your coffee," she spoke in a low, sultry voice, and strolled away from him, the switch in her hips drawing his gaze in once more.

Everyone else in the restaurant watched her retreat as well, and then turned their astounded gazes upon the ex-chimera quietly fuming in the corner. A few whistles and hoots erupted, mixed with grunts of disapproval and menacing sneers. Zelgadis felt his face become hot, and he quickly downed his coffee before dropping a few coins on the table and making a hasty exit.

_I think it's time that I go face Amelia._

- -

When Amelia entered the dining room, Crown Prince Philionel was already seated at the head of the grand oak table with a loaded breakfast plate sitting in front of him. Fork and knife in hand, he looked up upon his daughter's entrance.

"Ah, Amelia! Are you feeling better this morning?" He quickly motioned to one of the servers to prepare another plate at his right hand, where his daughter was designated to sit. "I'm sorry I did not wait for you before starting breakfast, but I wasn't sure if you'd be coming down."

Amelia's smile was rather wan as she took her seat, but her father – engrossed with his meal once more – failed to notice. "It's okay, Daddy," she genuinely assured him. "And yes, I'm feeling much better."

"I'm glad! I wouldn't want you to be sick for Lina-san's upcoming celebration."

"No, me neither," Amelia agreed enthusiastically. A plate was placed in front of her then, and she tentatively picked up her fork. Her appetite had diminished a great deal since that morning's confusion, and she ended up only pushing her eggs and sausages around absentmindedly.

"Is something wrong, my daughter?" Phil asked after a few minutes, his intense gaze holding a strong level of concern. "You're not eating."

Amelia bit her lip and gently dropped her fork, the silverware making a quiet _clink _against the china plate. "Daddy," she began softly, hands clasped in her lap, "did anyone come into my room last night or this morning?"

Phil leaned back in his chair, roughly scratching his chin. "I don't believe so," he stated. "I asked everyone to keep out, as a matter of fact, because I didn't want you to be bothered."

"Really?"

"Yes. I even asked Trevor-san to post a couple of his guards out in the hallway to ensure that you weren't disturbed."

"…Daddy, how many guards were posted outside last night?" Amelia asked, trying her hardest to disguise her question for mild curiosity.

"Hrmph! It didn't matter how many were outside, since some of the lazy sods fell asleep on duty," Philionel grumbled and peered closely at his daughter. "Why do you ask, dear?"

Amelia immediately flashed a brilliant smile, picking up her fork. "Just curious. I want to make sure that the castle is well protected from any evil villains that lurk about!" she exclaimed, not unconvincingly. She would always be a champion for Justice, after all.

"Exactly right, my daughter!" Phil eagerly pumped a fist into the air, and then father and daughter both returned to the task of eating their breakfast. Amelia shoveled food into her mouth to please her father, knowing that her questions had probably ignited more than a few suspicions within him.

A thought kept clawing at the princess's mind, though, distracting her from the enticing meal. If guards were positioned outside in the hallway throughout the night to prevent anyone from entering her room, then the only other way to access her chambers was through the balcony. But no common person would have been able to reach it; there was no ladder or trellis for anyone to climb.

However, someone could easily have put a few guards to sleep and then _flown_ in.

As Amelia's brow creased even further in worriment, a pageboy entered the dining room. "A man has requested an audience with Princess Amelia," he announced with just a hint of apprehension.

"What man?" Philionel asked authoritatively. "My daughter is not to meet with any suitors outside of royal functions."

Thankful for her father's protectiveness, Amelia continued eating with growing ease. She could barely even stand talking to those men at said functions.

The pageboy, however, slowly shook his head and cleared his throat. "He is not of nobility, your highness. He is simply a commoner."

"A commoner?"

"And what is his name?" Amelia finally spoke up, trying to keep her voice free of anxiety.

"I am sorry, Princess, but I do not know. He refuses to say."

"That's outrageous!" Philionel roared. "Surely he doesn't expect to meet with my daughter if we do not even know who he is!"

"I understand, your highness," the page assured him, bowing low out of respect and, even more, fear. The Crown Prince was a highly intimidating figure, and the pageboy did not wish to be on the receiving end of a Pacifist Crush. "However, the guards at the gate did let him through."

"That is correct," Amelia agreed, pushing away from the table. "I shall see him."

"Amelia!"

"Don't worry about me, Daddy," Amelia quieted her father's protests, grinning broadly. "I'm a lot more cautious than I used to be."

He picked up on the hidden meaning in her words with a jaw set in self-restraint. He did not look completely sated, but allowed his daughter to leave with a sullen nod.

"He is waiting in the grand foyer," the page smiled, relieved with accomplishing his task. "After you, milady…"

- -

To say that Zelgadis was nervous was a complete understatement. He paced across the beige carpet of the entryway with his hands wringing behind his back, heart pumping furiously. He still had no idea what he would say to the princess when she arrived, and for the millionth time that day, he scolded himself. If he hadn't had left that diner so quickly, he could have had more time to strategize. But he was just so wired from his encounter with the strange woman, and he needed to get up and _do _something before yet another female popped up in his life to mess with his head. With his luck, he would've stumbled across the Bandit Killer herself.

Hearing footsteps ahead of him, the swordsman abruptly stopped and looked up. He knew the sound of those feather-light footfalls; he had traveled with them stepping beside his own for months on end. If his heart had been beating fast before, it was downright hammering against his chest now.

The pageboy he had spoken to earlier strode into the room, stopping several feet before him. "Princess Amelia Wil Tesla Seyruun," he announced, bowing and stepping out of the way to reveal the small form standing behind him in the hallway.

Time stopped for him. He had seen her asleep just the night before, but now she was here, right in front of him, awake and alive. Garbed in her flattering white dress, she had one palm gracefully pressed against the wall beside her as she stared at him with polite curiosity. Her head was slightly tilted, her high ponytail streaming down to just barely brush against her bare shoulder, and she offered him a welcoming smile.

"Good morning." Her voice was as clear and strong as he remembered, and just as warm and inviting. And her eyes…there was no evidence at all of the tears she had previously shed. They bore into him now, deep and unwavering, with just the slightest hint of hesitation – she had not recognized him yet.

_Gulp. _"Amelia…"

Amelia cocked her head farther to one side, confused as to why this stranger spoke as if he were familiar with her. She was no stickler for formality, but it was rare for a commoner to disregard it completely. Did she know him after all? Her gaze roamed over his form in search of a feature for her to recognize him by. He was undoubtedly handsome with his choppy hairstyle, prominent and chiseled features, tanned and muscular frame; and he had a canteen with an adorable pink bracelet looped around its cap…

Sapphire eyes widening to nearly impossible boundaries, Amelia's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh…"

_Oh?_

Zelgadis let out a slow, shaky breath and took a step toward her. "Amelia," he repeated, but she only stepped away from him in response, her trembling hand still covering her mouth. He licked his bottom lip nervously before trying again. "Amelia, it's me – Zelgadis."

Her hand slowly dropped from its position to brace against the wall again, this time with more dependence. "I know," she replied breathlessly. "I'm just surprised, is all." _Quite the understatement._Amelia swallowed nervously. "What…what are you doing here?" Her voice was high-pitched and uneven, and she cringed at the immature sound of it.

Zelgadis took another step forward, and was satisfied when the princess did not retreat again. "I came to see you."

"To see me?" she repeated dazedly. Zelgadis had come to see her. After three years, he had finally come to Seyruun to see her. To see _her_. Just last night she had been pouring her heart out into her journal about how lost she felt, and now the source of that feeling of confusion was standing right there in front of her. And he was _human._

Amelia longed to do so many things at once; she wanted to hug him, slap him, kiss him, cry to him, kick him, and profess her love to him, but she did none of those things. Instead, she did the one thing that she never thought she would ever do; the thing that classified her as something she despised to be – a damsel in distress.

She fainted.

"_Amelia!_" Zelgadis had just enough time to leap across the distance that separated them and catch her falling form in his arms. She collapsed in a heap of ruffled chiffon, and he effortlessly lifted her up off of the ground, distantly noting that she was just as light as she had been three years ago.

The guards posted at the entrance immediately rushed forward, and Zelgadis spun around to face them, the princess nestled comfortably in his arms. "I'll take her to her room," he firmly told them, and walked off in the direction he knew to be the way. He could hear the guards' hushed whispers as he ascended the grand staircase, but tuned them out. He had more important things to worry about.

Once safely stowed inside her bedroom, Zelgadis gently laid the princess on her bed, and took a seat next to her still form. He watched the rise and fall of her chest and reached out a hand to sweep away a lock of her hair, just like he had done the night before.

_The night before…_

Frustrated, Zelgadis stood and paced around the room, combing his fingers through his dark hair. This was not going the way he had wanted it to. Perhaps he should have given the pageboy his name after all, but the fear of Amelia's denial to see him pushed him into keeping it a mystery. However, this was obviously not any better.

He stopped his motions in resignation, choosing instead to occupy his thoughts by taking in his surroundings. Now, in the daylight, he noticed certain details about her room that somewhat surprised him; for instance, he had expected there to be an abundance of pink, but only white and gold decorated the walls, nicely matched with a plush carpet of royal blue. She had an elegant vanity set against one side of the wall, with rows upon rows of make-up and perfumes lined up beside one another. It seemed strange to him because she had never bothered with such petty appliances during their travels, and he vaguely wondered how many of those perfume bottles had been bought for her by the men he saw at the gala.

The rich paintings that adorned the walls were quick to distract him from that thought, and he stared at them in subtle amazement. He had never known Amelia to be an appreciator of art, nor did he expect her to have such fine taste. He approached one that he himself was familiar with, an oil painting crafted by one of his favorite artists, Iabban Nuald. It was a picture of any common sunset, the golden orb dipped halfway into the ocean and surrounded by the perfect blend of reds, pinks, and oranges. It was pretty, of course, but what really gave the painting its intrigue was the woman standing alone on the shore, facing away from the view. She wasn't posed in any intricate way; her face was downcast and her arms hung at her sides, while she wore only an ordinary brown dress. Her feet were bare.

Nuald gave his work of art a short and simple name, _Ruin_. You couldn't see it in the picture; you could only feel it.

He ambled over to her walk-in closet, curious to see how much her wardrobe had changed. It was packed with dresses and royal gowns and fancy slippers, but Zelgadis noted that it only contained a few pink apparels, which were shoved towards the back, indicating they're infrequent use. He instead found dresses of rich blues and greens and pure whites, and a few deep reds mixed in with bright yellows. Aside from the rack was a single hook, where only one gown was hung – one that was of a cream color with thin straps, and had pearls and tiny diamonds sewn into the satiny fabric. He assumed that this hook was used for upcoming events, which meant that she would be wearing this particular dress soon.

His ears caught the quiet sound of gentle rustling, and he hurried out of Amelia's closet, thankful that she opened her eyes only after he had emerged.

"Zelgadis-san," she mumbled, and he was by her side in an instant.

"Right here, been here the whole time," he hastily assured her, taking his now familiar sitting position on her bed. He cleared his throat and spoke more calmly, "I'm sorry if my sudden arrival overwhelmed you."

Amelia's eyes held a layer of confusion, which she slowly blinked away as she remembered the past events. "Oh…" She bit her lip and lifted herself up so that she was eye-level with her old traveling companion. "No, it's okay. I'm sorry if I caused a fuss."

Zelgadis felt the corner of his mouth turn upwards in a half-smile. Same old Amelia, apologizing for occurrences that weren't even her fault. "Please don't worry yourself over it."

Amelia nodded slowly, her azure orbs taking in his human features. A dazzling smile broke out across her face, and she latched her arms around his neck in a warm hug. "You're really here, Zelgadis-san. I can't believe it!"

Relieved by her acceptance, yet somewhat awkward with the physical contact, Zelgadis hesitantly wound his own brawny arms around her small waist. "Yes, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

She drew back suddenly and, to his surprise, cupped his face between her delicate hands. "And you're human! You found your cure! Finally…" She turned his face from side to side between her palms, surveying every physical feature it held. "I'm so happy for you! Of course, I thought you looked great before, but you already knew that…"

He wrapped his calloused hands around her thin wrists, stopping her actions. "Amelia, let me say something before you get too carried away…"

"And now you're back," Amelia beamed, bypassing his comment. "You're here…"

Zelgadis gulped nervously, dragging her hands away from his face to rest on his lap, and then covered them with his own. "Wait, Amelia. I have to tell you something."

Her cheerful expression gave way to a look of somberness then, and she nodded and gave him a sad smile. "Yes, I have a few things to share with you, myself. Just a few things that have happened since we last saw each other…but not just yet, ne? I'd rather catch up on good times."

He sighed. She certainly wasn't going to make this easier for him, not that he expected her to anyway. "I really need to talk to you about it now."

"You know, your hands are awfully rough," Amelia replied distractedly, her confused gaze directed towards their joined hands. Had they always been that way? Was it possible for stone skin to even callous? It was then that she noticed several thin white lines embedded within his forearms, some criss-crossing with each other, others trailing up beneath the sleeves of his emerald green shirt. "So, how long will you be staying here? Or…are you just stopping by?"

"Well, that really depends."

_Scars._Amelia continued to inspect the markings, a knot of dread forming in her stomach. _No, no…not you too._ "On what?"

He saw the change in her demeanor, how her brows had come together in puzzlement as she stared down at their hands. What was she looking at? "We never have time to rest in this wretched world," he echoed the words of his trainer with an air of annoyance at the statement's accuracy. However, she didn't seem to be paying attention to what he was saying anymore.

Not all of those scars could have been there when they traveled together – his stone skin had deflected most blows. And yet, they were fully healed, as if they had been there for a while. And it would have had to have been a natural process, because healing spells didn't leave behind any scars. The one left on Amelia's abdomen was a rare exception.

Very slowly and without even lifting her head, she leveled her gaze with his. "Zelgadis-san," she whispered, "how long have you been human?"

Zelgadis could feel her small hands tense beneath his, and knew that he was venturing into dangerous territory. "I couldn't come back right away," he said in a quiet voice.

Amelia, however, was not satisfied with that answer. "How long?" she repeated, her voice equally as soft.

He stared back at her, trying to keep the remorse from reaching his eyes. _I shouldn't feel guilty, I didn't do anything wrong._ "About two and a half years." _Not guilty, not guilty._

_Two and a half years…_

It took several seconds for his reply to sink in, and when it did, she violently wrenched her hands away from his grasp. "Two and a half…" she echoed, just barely above a whisper.

"Amelia, please listen to me…" _Not guilty, not guilty._

"Listen to you?" Amelia's eyes suddenly glazed over and Zelgadis braced himself for what was to come. "That's all I've been doing these past three years. Waiting and listening – waiting around while I listened for an announcement that a letter has come for me, from you – one of my best friends. But I only received banquet invitations, gifts from suitors, marriage proposals…"

He felt his chest tighten at the mention of her personal life, but scolded himself for it. Of course she had been in other relationships; it was silly for him to think otherwise. But it didn't stop the unwanted and confusing pang of jealousy that stirred within him.

"Except for one time…and even then, your letter was more of a note, really. Three lines long." Her fists were clenched now, and she only realized it when she felt the stinging of her fingernails digging deeply into the flesh of her palms. "I don't understand. Where were you, Zelgadis? What were you doing?"

Zelgadis cringed at the sudden informal use of his name. "Just let me explain…"

"They should've left me in that box," she blurted, and her voice rose in the midst of her rage.

Now he was confused. "What?"

She sighed and briefly shut her eyes. "Nothing, I didn't mean that." When her eyes opened again, they held a brazen fire of betrayal that burned intensely for him. He didn't think it was possible for the ocean to carry flames. "How could you do this to me?"

_'How could you do this to me?'_

Zelgadis hastily leapt from the bed. "No…" he stammered, holding his hands up in front of him in a placating motion. _Not guilty, not guilty. _"I knew it, it's already starting. Amelia, I know you're mad, but just listen to me--"

"I'm tired of listening!" Amelia sprung away from her bed in suit, fists clenched against her hips as she glared at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. And then, very unexpectedly, she slapped his hands down from their gesture to calm her. "And I'm not a child!"

That action alone stung him, and he could only stare at her, dumbfounded. _This is getting out of control. What's really going on here?_ "Amelia, just settle down."

But she wasn't done yet. "At least I had some small measure of comfort in knowing that you were still out there, searching for what meant most to you. And I hated that it was your cure and not your friends, but I grudgingly accepted it. Yes, I was sad, and I was very angry at your lack of communication, but at least I knew it was for your dream."

"It was, all of this was."

"No, I don't believe you. You could've written more, you could've made one trip after you became human. Why didn't you?"

He hung his head in guilt, but more so from the frustration that he fought to contain. "What do you want me to say? You have yet to let me speak."

"Just tell me why!" she demanded hotly. "Did you get hurt? Did you get yourself caught up in some sort of new quest? Did you find something _else_ wrong with you that you just _had_ to fix?"

Zelgadis's head snapped up at her last comment, surprise shown clearly in his eyes. _Not guilty. _But that was the only affirmation that Amelia needed, and with a muffled sob, she turned away from him.

"Oh gods," she cried out softly. "I don't even want to know what it was this time. When will you realize that there are more important things, Zelgadis-san?"

He had nothing to say to that, and only watched as she slowly retreated to the door, her dress trailing regally behind her.

_Say something, anything. Don't just let her leave it like this. _

But no words came, and he could only watch as she stopped in her tracks, just before turning the brass doorknob. "I'll ask the maids to prepare the guest suite for you," she whispered, and then turned to look over her shoulder, though her gaze was directed at his feet. "And for the record…I always keep my balcony doors open at night."

And with a flourish, she was gone, leaving only a confused, irritated, and forlorn Zelgadis in her wake.

_Guilty._

- -

A mocking chortle arose from the great entity, and Kreoss cringed behind his lord's back. "You put something in his coffee?"

Kreoss gulped, but forced his voice to remain level. "Gromsweed."

His master took a moment to consider it, and then slowly nodded in approval. "A poisonous herb used to make someone fall prey to violent hallucinations and painful memories of the past," he recited. He eyed his servant carefully. "You know his past better than I do."

"Yes. There are certain events I wouldn't mind him…reliving." Kreoss turned away in frustration. "But some whore ruined my plan by switching their cups."

"Is that so? Do you think it was a mere coincidence?"

"He was just as surprised as I was, my lord. But it doesn't matter – it won't happen again."

"I see. Deal with him as you wish – just keep him out of my way."

"As I wish?" Kreoss repeated hesitantly. "So the other thing that I proposed sits well enough with you?"

Several seconds of silence stretched between them before he was granted an answer. "Do as you wish," he said again. But Kreoss suddenly found his neck in a vice-like grip, and he had to resist the urge to gag. "I know you are interested in her, Kreoss, but you'd do best to remember that she is mine. Whatever plan it is that follow through with, you leave her to me. You can cross paths with her, you can toy with her, but nothing more unless it is your wish to be flayed alive by my hand. I will not have another servant betray me."

Eyes wide in fear, Kreoss quickly nodded, and was abruptly released.

"Yes, my lord."

He would not end up like Booley.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Slayers.


	5. Listen

**Author's Notes:** I definitely pulled an all-nighter for this. Love me for it. Almost all of this chapter is new content, save for the scene in the training room, and even that has been tweaked.

**Summary: **After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...

* * *

**Chapter Four  
**'listen'

_Am I made of glass? 'Cause  
__You see right through me_

Trapt

- -

When her father summoned her to their private tea room, Amelia was suspicious, but glad to oblige. She enjoyed spending time with him, yes, but it was rare for him to make an official request for her company on a spur of the moment like that. And so with a rather quizzical expression, she pushed the door open to grant his call.

The sight before her quickly made her grin. Her father, so massive in size and personality, was nestled cozily in a small wing chair and politely sipping from a tiny teacup. Her admiration for him was greater beyond words, but even Philionel's own daughter could find humor in many of his postures and positions.

"Good morning, Daddy," she chirped and closed the door behind her.

Phil beamed at her in return, placed his teacup on the small table beside him. "Amelia, sweetheart, take a seat," he motioned to the other armchair. She sank into it and was immediately handed her own cup of tea, mixed with milk and honey, just how she preferred it. She nodded her thanks to the maid, and blew on the hot beverage softly to help cool it while her father made conversation. "How are the preparations going for Lina-san's party?"

She took a small sip and flinched slightly. Still too hot. "Just fine – Delor handed me the menu yesterday to approve, and it looks delicious so far. I should be through with it sometime this evening so that his kitchen staff can begin."

"Excellent! And you are sure of the guest count? Martina-san, Zangalus-san, and Sylphiel-san are all attending as well?"

"Absolutely! Everyone is coming together again, it should be quite lovely."

"I see…"

Phil braced his hands on his knees, nervously slid them along the thick fabric of his slacks. Amelia could feel the hesitation and discomfiture radiating from his rigid form in stifling waves, and she smiled understandingly at him before taking another small sip of her tea. "If you have any other questions, Daddy, just ask."

He looked down at his hands then and chuckled awkwardly. "I'm not very equipped to deal with these types of situations." When she raised her eyebrow at him, he cleared his throat. "Yes, well…you said that everyone is coming together. Is that why Zelgadis-san has returned?"

_Oh…_

Her tea was still too hot, but she took a sip anyway, welcoming the distraction. She idly toyed with her sapphire pendant as she attempted an expression of disinterest. "I'm not sure. I doubt it."

"Did he not give you an explanation for his sudden arrival?"

"I may not have given him much of a chance to." She meekly raised one shoulder in a half-shrug before smiling at him sheepishly. "I haven't seen him since he first got here. It's already been a few days and he still hasn't budged from that guest room, so I assume he'll still be around for Lina-san's party."

"I do so hate to be the pessimist." Phil restlessly tapped his fingers against his knee, his other hand moving to wipe the thin veil of sweat that was quickly forming at his brow. "But it's no shock that great catastrophes arise when all of you come together. I am very concerned, Amelia."

She lowered the teacup to her lap, folded her hands around it. Its warmth seeped into the creamy skin of her palms as she stroked the porcelain absentmindedly. "It's just a birthday party, Daddy. You have nothing to worry about." She wanted to smile at him reassuringly, wanted to ease all of her father's doubts, because she knew he didn't deserve any of it. But when she saw the fear and skepticism that clouded his eyes, she felt her heart sink deep into her belly with failure.

"Popping up like that, out of nowhere…he came here for a reason, my daughter. And he's not leaving."

"He will eventually. He always does."

Her calm voice and hollow expression twisted Phil's heart in painful sympathy, and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "You have always been a sweet and considerate person. That's how your mother and I raised you. I think it would be the right thing to do if you talked things over with him, dear."

"Oh, we talked alright."

"Did you listen?" He was smirking at her now, her own father! She pursed her lips and promptly looked away in silence, but the answer to his question formed harshly in her mind, sharp as an axe.

_No, I told him I was through with listening. Let him know how it feels to be left waiting._

"Your mother was always the patient and understanding one, Amelia. She was always so calm. But your fiery temper – and yes, you do have one," he added when she shot him a very offended look, "well…I'm afraid you get that from me."

She glared down at the floor in a childlike pout. "I am very patient…"

He threw his head back and laughed and then drained the rest of his tea. "My daughter…try talking to him again. For me."

She looked up into the pleading eyes of her father, and nodded desolately. After all, Daddy's word was law.

- -

His sword was humming in his hands, calling out to him and dragging him deeper into the focused mindset that he always embraced to perform his drills. It thirsted for life and power as it slashed through the dusty air, craved for its proud energy to be released, and Zelgadis lost himself in the sensation. He had been cooped up in his guest room for three days now, could feel himself slipping into madness while he carefully avoided the princess, practically sitting on his hands to keep from wrenching out his hair. When he stumbled upon an old training room early in the morning, he counted his blessings.

The floor and weapon racks were covered in a thin layer of grime, but it was only the space that he needed and was grateful for. He wasted no time in hurrying into a pair of sweatpants and grabbing his sword from his suite, eager for a release from the emotions that had him so antsy and flustered. But it seemed that with every strike he made, a string of harsh words would immediately reverberate through his skull, inscribing themselves into his movements. Everything she said had had days to register and sink in, but willingly came spilling out in his flurry of powerful strikes.

Straight thrust, side kick, crescent slice.

'_Waiting and listening…'_

Spin strike, middle slash, elbow thrust.

_'Waiting around while I listened for an announcement that a letter has come for me.'_

Spinning hook kick, cross slice, axe kick.

_'From you – one of my best friends.'_

Hook slice, twist slash, sweeping ground kick.

_'But I only received banquet invitations, gifts from suitors, marriage proposals…'_

With an enraged bellow, he callously slammed his fist into the stone ground where his opponent's head would have been after being swept off their feet. He sadistically envisioned some snotty prince or nobleman sprawled across the floor, his royal skull brutally crushed in from the powerful blow.

Panting heavily more from his raging emotions than from the workout, Zelgadis closed his eyes and wearily fell back onto the floor, arms draped around his knees.

_I'm here to help her, not waste my time pretending to pound her suitors into bloody pulps._

Although he had to admit, the imaginary fight had felt quite satisfying.

It was a mistake to feel that way, he knew. He had no right at all to feel possessive towards her. He had no reason to feel any remorse for his past actions. He didn't do anything wrong. So why was there an insistent sting of jealousy that was constantly chipping away at his heart? Why was guilt running through his veins, poisoning him with regret?

He stared at the scars that trailed the length of his bared flesh, remembering how he had wanted to keep them as badges of honor after regaining his human form. He had been so amazed that his skin was able to split open like that again that he couldn't bear to get rid of the scars completely. But now they only served as a painful reminder of the heated conversation between him and the princess, of the tears that had threatened to leak down her rosy cheeks – tears that would have fallen because of him.

Zelgadis slowly raised his sword before him, the reflection of his eyes glaring back at him in the mirroring surface. They were cold and distant, impenetrable blocks of ice; the exact opposite of her twin sapphires that had always held care and acceptance for everyone around her. And ever since he had first met her, whenever he gazed into those oceanic depths, he could feel his ice melting away, dissolving at her whim. And it wasn't supposed to – that wasn't the type of person he wanted to be. He strived to be the cold and heartless swordsman, took pride in it. Maybe now she would finally believe it too.

He groaned inwardly. _Yes, because I was so heartless when I jumped in front of Gaav's attack to save her life. And I didn't feel a thing when she died in my arms in Phibrizzo's lair._ He swept a hand through his hair, sighed at his reflection. _What have you done to me?_

"Zelgadis-san…"

His head snapped up with such a force that he felt a pinch of pain in his neck, but he ignored it, staring hard at the source of the delicate voice. In the doorway stood the princess that now invaded his every thought and dream, clothed in a pleasing pale green dress with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her head was held high in confidence and bravery, but he could see the torment and sadness that marred her features, so unlike the cheerful expressions that he knew were better suited for her.

She was openly gazing at him as he slowly got to his feet, her soulful eyes running unabashedly over the span of tanned skin that stretched tautly across the toned muscles of his chest and arms. A thick lump formed in his throat, and he suddenly wished that he had brought a shirt to wear while he trained.

Amelia stepped forward into the training room, the heels of her dainty slippers clicking melodically across the stone floor. She stopped several feet away from him, gnawing at her bottom lip in apprehension. "Wow…look at you," she spoke in almost a whisper. Zelgadis only averted his gaze, choosing to stare at the sword held slackly in his hand. "Have you been training this whole time? While you were gone, I mean."

"Every day."

"Oh…" She nervously sculpted her bangs to one side. "You know we have a nicer training room on the first floor that's much cleaner. We haven't used this one in years."

He shrugged, twirled the sword in his hand absentmindedly. "It was convenient. I just needed the space." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bite her lip again, and glared down at his sword to ignore the tantalizing gesture. He stood there like the stone statue he used to resemble, unmoving and unflinching, and only lifted his gaze again to follow her as she walked around him to stand in the middle of the room. Her back to him, she opened her arms to the aged and dusty room.

"It does bring back memories. This is where I trained."

"Trained?" he echoed. "With magic, you mean?" The small talk, while not exactly pleasant, wasn't quite forced either. It surprised him how easily they could still talk to each other even after having a huge argument, however bland the conversation was. Hells, he was just thankful that she was talking to him, period.

"No, no…with a sword."

He blinked. "What?"

She slowly turned around in a circle, arms stretched wide. "Yes, our general – though he was just a captain at the time – used to give me and my sister lessons. That was years ago, though."

_She plunged the gleaming blade straight into her heart…_

He shook his head to dissolve the gruesome image, cleared his throat. "I didn't know that."

When she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, her face was twisted into a glare that could have even been described as _bitter,_ but her voice retained its softness. "Yes, there are a lot of things that you don't know that concern me."

He didn't blanch at her words, recognizing them for their truth instead. She fully turned to face him, dropping her arms back down to hang limply at her sides.

"You still wanted to be stronger, didn't you?" She made it sound like such an accusation, and he almost did cringe at that. "That's why you were away for so long, training every day. Even though it was that same desire that had turned you into a chimera in the first place. It's ironic…" She distractedly plucked a piece of lint from her sleeve before locking her hands together in front of her. "You must have wanted it pretty badly. I remember how I tried to find you, sense your location, but my training was incomplete at the time…"

A distant confirmation made itself known in the back of Zelgadis's mind; that's right – she wasn't an apprentice anymore. She must have become a full fledged shrine maiden when she turned eighteen.

"…and you must not have wanted to be found." She swallowed and looked down at her clasped hands. "But I did try. I even blacked out once. It was strange, actually – I tried to stretch out my senses and pinpoint where you were, but all of that energy just bounced off...like you had a special shield formed so that you couldn't be found."

Maybe putting up a protection spell had been a little harsh, but he didn't expect her to go that far to try to find him. As far as he knew, attempting something like that without having attained the proper training first had serious consequences. Even knowing that, had she still gone through with it?

'_How could you do this to me?'_

"Amelia…I'm sorry." He turned away from her, swinging his sword a few times so that he wouldn't have to look at her. "I know you expect me to say more, but that's all I have. I know I hurt you, and that bothers me more than I'd like…" He paused in his actions to let his arm drop, and set his gaze upon a mural of Cepheid set against the far wall. It was faded and cracked with chipping paint, but it was something else to occupy his attention. "But I had to do it. You should have seen me when I became a human again. I was so weak…it was disgusting."

He heard the princess give an impatient and very un-ladylike snort. "I don't –"

"I know you don't care," Zelgadis cut her off, suddenly turning on her with his jaw set in resolve. "But I do. And maybe it was selfish of me. But Amelia, I spent years as a chimera, a _freak._ I had to endure watching people run away at the mere sight of me. When I regained my human form…I was a freak all over again. Only this time, it was on the inside."

"My gods, nobody is perfect!" Amelia retorted, though her voice was still gentle, a soft cry. "That's what being human is all about. Zelgadis-san…you're only human."

He stared intently at her saddened expression, his brain fumbling over the words he wanted to say to her and disappointing him with the blank it drew instead. He settled for running his hand through his hair frustratingly.

Amelia sighed. "Lina-san's birthday is this week, you know."

He didn't know, but he let her continue anyway. "I'll be throwing her a party. If you're still here by then, you'll be attending." She brusquely walked around his rigid form and strode towards the room's entrance.

Zelgadis stared after her in brief shock before taking a step and reaching out one arm towards her retreating form. "Wait, Amelia!"

"Please, Zelgadis-san," she quietly begged in the doorway, "let's just leave it at that for now."

And as she walked away, Zelgadis heard her distressed sigh echo down the hallway.

- -

"_Love is a dangerous emotion. It'll degrade you. It'll mock you. It'll toss you into the dirt and leave you there to rot in your own depression. But hatred…hatred is always there. Hatred will always comfort you."_

"_Do you really believe that, Gracia?"_

_Her smile was sarcastic when she placed her hand on her little sister's shoulder. "For me, yes. But you and I are different. No man in his right mind would walk away from you, Tesla. And if he does, I'll kill him."_

- -

The trim of his billowing cape gathered bits of dirt and moss as it was dragged along the ground, but Philionel didn't mind, too pleased with the sense of tranquility that the castle garden always brought him. He relished in the perfumes of azaleas and carnations, savored in the fragrances of periwinkles and gardenias. A cheeky, satisfied grin made its way across his face as he bent over to stroke a thriving daffodil.

"I gather there will be a bit of rainfall tonight," he spoke directly to the sunshine-colored flower. He didn't know anything about gardening, but he could feel the precipitation building in the air, the musky smell of a promised rain mingling with the sweet aromas of the garden. "You all can withstand it, I hope. We wouldn't want to disappoint our precious Alana. She did love tending to you so."

The garden had been one of her most passionate hobbies, seen to by the tenderness of her own hands. It was unheard of for someone of royal status who had hundreds of people on staff waiting to do the job, but it was something she had truly enjoyed immersing herself in. It was a thrill, she used to say to him, a type of excitement that she felt through growing life from the earth itself. And she had always claimed that plants could hear; how that could be possible, he could never wrap his mind around, but he still carried on her tradition. Phil himself was never blessed with a green thumb, but he tried to make up for it this way.

He stopped at a patch of snow white daisies, her favorite, and crouched down before them. Phil was quite the literal man, believed in black and white and things he could only see with his own two eyes. His late wife had been the opposite – a dreamer with a mind far more open than his. He could sometimes feel her glowing optimism in the flowers, wished to have a piece of it with him always.

He gently ran a finger down a smooth green stem. If chatting with these plants somehow connected him to her spirit, then by gods, he'd do it every day. And he needed her now.

"My dear Alana, what a troublesome past few days it has been," he sighed, his thumb smoothing over the wedding band still worn on his ring finger. "Our daughter is in distress, and I cannot do anything about it."

A breeze rolled in, scented with the forthcoming rain. "I am too clumsy with these matters of the heart. He is a good man, Alana, but he hurt our Amelia. These things happen, but what's a father to do?"

Another trickle of wind caressed his skin, and he closed his eyes to enjoy it. "Yes, my love, I know. It's for her to resolve. I can only support her with whatever decision she makes." He rubbed a white petal between his fingertips, soft as his wife's skin once was. Indeed, he thought to himself, it was not up to him to interfere in Amelia's personal life. He had already said his piece earlier, and he needed to leave it at that.

"I won't lose another daughter."

With a great sigh he stood, adjusting his cloak while he continued on past the daisies. There were still more flowers that he wished to admire, particularly the colorful array of wildflowers that bordered the forest behind the castle.

His oldest daughter's favorite. No one even knew where she was.

But as he neared his destination, a movement in the woods was quick to arrest his attention and put him on guard. Alert, he squared his shoulders in commanding authority.

"Who goes there?" his voice bellowed strongly. The sound of snapping twigs and crunched leaves was the trespasser's only response, and he strode closer to the suspected area of intrusion. "Show yourself!" he dared. He could only see a faint shadow slithering within the trees as it contemplated coming out into the open.

More so out of surprise than fear, he swiftly halted when he saw the large black wolf emerge from the woods, its thick coat of fur gleaming beautifully beneath the afternoon sunshine. It slowly and carefully eyed Phil in an unnerving study, and he held out his hands soothingly in return.

"There, there," he murmured. "We don't see many wolves near the castle. It's just surprising."

The wolf's eyes stared unflinchingly into his, and he shifted his weight. "I don't want to kick you out, now, but I'm worried you'll trample the flowers. They're for my wife, see. She had a real knack for gardening."

It was still watching him calmly, and his brow furrowed in thought. "I'm sure we can work something out," he tried to reason with the animal.

Without breaking its gaze, the wolf lied down quietly, much to Phil's astonishment. With raised eyebrows, he nodded approvingly. "Well now, I suppose there isn't any problem if you're just resting," he admitted. "But I do have many other things to cross off of my to-do list today, which I'm afraid I must return to."

He considered reaching over to pat the wolf's head, but voted against it. It was better to leave while peace still hung in the air between them. He nodded in its direction instead, and retreated.

And on his way back through the garden toward the castle, he stopped and bowed before the daisies.

- -

Zelgadis was back in his room again, freshly showered after his workout and garbed in a clean pair of sweatpants, a towel thrown around his neck to catch the droplets of water that trickled down from his damp hair. He immediately went to his window, which had been left open for fresh air, and shut it against the incoming rain. Only a slight sprinkle had been falling from the graying heavens before his retreat to the shower, but already it had accumulated to a nasty downpour that crashed furiously against the glass.

Seyruun always cried when he was there.

He pressed the towel against his forehead in exhaustion, plunked himself down on his bed. His head had developed a persistent ache since his second confrontation with Amelia, leaving his temples throbbing from the aggravation of it all. He tried to tell her everything, explain to her how he had felt when he first woke up as a human – that feeling of weakness and frailty that left his stomach roiling in shame for what he had become. A human, yes, but a powerless one. But she had a rebuttal to every excuse he gave her, a counter to every argument he had ever made for himself in support of his decision to stay away. She was good at that, snatching away his words until he had nothing left for his own defenses.'

Yes, she definitely had her way of burrowing under his skin.

What he didn't know was what to do now. It all started with the grisly nightmares, vivid and horrifying images of the princess being ripped apart by snakes of black vapor. He had been willing to ignore them at first. And sickeningly enough, he probably still could. He could just fly right out of there and never look back, place his faith in that general who had once put a sword in her childish hands and trust Lina to save the world again. Amelia held no expectations of him, had even used the word 'if' in regards to him staying around for their friend's birthday celebration.

_She doesn't need me._

He reached over to his nightstand for his comb, and saw a thermos with fresh coffee innocently perched on the polished oak surface. He had been regularly receiving them throughout the past few days, a little fetish of his that only Amelia could know about.

His heart stirred and he sighed. He was stuck, and sooner or later he would have to tell her the real reason for why he came, and face it with her.

He grasped the thermos and unscrewed the lid, was about to take a long and rejuvenating gulp when he thought he heard a shout – a cry that rose even above the pattering rain outside and reached his ears through the glass. He squinted as he leaned over his bed to look out the window, screwing up his vision to get a better picture, but the glass was too blurred for him to see. He strained his hearing instead to listen to the yells.

_"…sama!"_

He groaned in impatience and set his coffee down on the ledge, making the brave decision to open the window again. Lukewarm rain splattered against his face in angry waves as he leaned out into the malicious weather, surprised when he saw the small image of a little boy barreling through the front gates and across the castle lawn.

_"Amelia-sama!" _he was screaming at the top of his lungs, and Zelgadis dumbly stared down at him and the watchmen that stumbled in his wake, trying to catch the little intruder. How the boy had even gotten through, he couldn't imagine. They had certainly given him the third degree before allowing him through upon his arrival.

_"Amelia-sama, please!"_He was frantically waving his arms, drenched to the bone and crying above the whipping rain and harsh winds to make himself heard. And heard, he was. Zelgadis hastily shut the window and donned a thin tee-shirt and his traveling boots before rushing down to the ground floor, cape in hand.

Through the several hallways, other guards emerged, muttering questions to each other about what all of the commotion was, raising eyebrows and shrugging shoulders in all their cluelessness. When the focus of the little boy's screams scurried gracefully down the grand staircase, all eyes were on her and her puzzled expression.

"What in the 'verse is going on?" she inquired loudly from her elevated position on the third stair, her confused gaze sweeping around the entire foyer for an answer from one of her men. When one soldier strode confidently through the room to the bottom of the staircase where she waited, her questioning eyes turned on him. "Trevor-san…" she pleaded, her eyes begging him for information.

He extended a hand out to her caringly, his voice smooth and warm. "Amelia-dono, let us handle this little nuisance of a situation. Your father is in his study, I can take you to him if you'd like."

Zelgadis watched the exchange between the two, felt an odd sting of resentment against the man that acted so familiar and affectionate toward the princess. He felt his jaw clench when she reached forward as if she were going to accept, but she halted her gesture before her hand could touch his. He didn't notice why, his gaze instead fastened on the soldier, scrutinizing the middle-aged man.

Face still contorted in a look of befuddlement, Amelia stared past the general's offered hand and into the hard crystalline eyes of her old companion. What she saw there took her breath away, the annoyance and dislike that were stewing beneath a scarily indifferent expression. His arms were folded across his broad chest as he stared rigidly at the man at the foot of the stairs, feet planted firmly into the ground just a foot apart. The damp locks of chestnut hair that fell haphazardly into his eyes only added to his mystery, and she lifted her hand to her heart in wonderment.

_"Amelia-samaaa!"_

The cry of her name shattered her dreamy reverie, and she quickly turned her attention back to the general. She tilted her head towards him with a tentative smile. "I think I should see what is going on out there, Trevor-san, but thank you. I appreciate your generosity."

Gathering a handful of her skirt's fabric in one hand, she brushed past the general and closer to the grand entrance, where she stopped at the colossal doors to peer at the stony figure beside her. Zelgadis was still openly staring at the other man, who had not even acknowledged her companion's presence, and had only shifted when she reached for the door handles. His movements were lost on her, however, when she threw them open and ran out into the rain to greet the disturbance.

The little boy, now wrangled beneath the burly arms of one of the watchmen, was squirming within the cage of limbs and hollering at his mightiest. "I need to see her!" he cried out, kicking and screaming as the guard lifted him up off of the ground.

"Now listen here, you little squirt--"

"Who're you callin' a squirt, you abominable tinman!?"

"Abominable!? Why I ought to--"

"Bring it on, geezer!!"

_"Enough!"_ The voice of their princess, powerful and commanding, sliced through the turbulence of the weather and ceased their struggles immediately with just that single word, her hand raised to them for emphasis. Safe and dry beneath the overhang of the grand entrance, she commanded authoritatively, "Let him speak."

"But Princess, he just barged in through here without following the proper protocol and -- _OW!_"

The boy viciously bit down deeper into the guard's hand, flailing his legs out as he was dropped unceremoniously onto the grass lawn. Mud splattered across his already stained peasant garb, but he scurried to his feet without giving it a second thought and raced toward the beautiful woman mere yards away from him. When drew closer to her, he fell to his knees, head lowered onto his tiny hands that splayed across the mud-covered grass, rain beating down against his back.

"Princess!" His words were muffled with his face to the ground, but he shouted to be heard above his bowing position and the howling wind. "Please, Amelia-sama, you have to help me. You're the only one!" He hiccupped as he began to cry, hating himself for the cowardly tears that rolled down his face and pounded a small fist into the earth. "Please help me…"

He felt cool chiffon brush against his wet cheek, and he looked up in awe when he saw the princess kneel beside him, now completely unsheltered from the nasty downpour. Her stunning gown was quickly blotted with raindrops, her beautiful ebony hair already growing limp with water. But it seemed that she didn't even notice as she smiled down at him charmingly with the kindest eyes he had ever seen on a stranger.

She dropped her hands onto his shoulders and gently pushed him back up into a sitting position. "There's no need for that here," she chided him. "Now, why don't you tell me what the problem is?"

He wanted to bask more in the godlike presence of the princess, wanted to gape in wonder at her close proximity, but his mind clicked at her mention of his problem. He jumped to his feet and reached for her hand. "Amelia-sama, it's my father. You have to come help me, please…" He began tugging at her hand, throwing his entire weight into dragging here towards the front gates.

Dumbfounded, she stumbled behind him with wide eyes, clutching onto the little hand that fit directly in her palm. She threw a glance back over her shoulder, caught sight of Zelgadis's strong and imposing form in the great doorway, and shrugged helplessly at him before she was tugged roughly through the gates. She barely saw him step out from under the overhang as the little boy pulled her down the slope of the hill that led into the city of Seyruun, her gown drenching in mud and rainwater.

There were not many townspeople brave enough to shop under the heavy downpour, but the few that were stopped their routines to gawk at the sight of the princess being tugged through the streets by a little boy. The wind rushed by her ears, chilling and numbing them to the astounded whispers that she knew were circulating. She waved and smiled embarrassingly to each one of her people, trying to portray to them that nothing was wrong or out of the ordinary.

The boy dragged her on farther, and she squinted through the veils of rain when she thought she saw something huddled on the cobblestone ahead of them. As they drew closer, worry quickly carved its way at her heart and she gripped his hand tighter, the form of a human being coming into clearer focus. He was dressed in gray garments, drenched and laying on his side, groaning in miserable pain. The little boy let go of her hand finally to kneel by the man's side, crying as he placed his hands on his shoulder.

"See here?" he hiccupped as he looked up at her, pointing to the man's neck. Amelia crouched down to see, shifting her sodden garments around her slick legs. When she saw just what exactly the boy was pointing at, she nearly gagged.

Ugly blue and black blotches were steadily spreading outwards from a particular spot on his neck, threaded through purple and green bruises and dotted with specks of crimson red. The wound looked like it had started out simple, a small puncture close to his collarbone, but the effects had bled across the entire side of his neck, trailing down to his chest and up to his ear and jawbone. Foam was forming at his mouth as he writhed on the cobblestone, clawing at the ground in agony while blood surfaced at his cuticles and eyesockets.

"He was bitten here by a spider this morning when we went hikin' through the woods. He said he was fine…"

"A spider," she echoed, her heart frozen in dread. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, oblivious to the crowd of people that were slowly accumulating to form around the spectacle in their streets, so focused she was now on the blend of colors that expanded all along his neck. "These symptoms…a plagueblood spider."

She closed her eyes at the sickening feeling that exploded in her stomach, and she prayed.

Not far behind her, Zelgadis stood amongst the growing crowd of whispering townsfolk, watching the scene with careful eyes and somewhat protected from the rainfall's fury by his well-invested waterproof enchanted cloak. When he saw her entire body stiffen and her voice crack as she spoke the name of the spider that bit this man, his shoulders tensed as well in ugly trepidation and he cursed under his breath.

The infamous plageblood – an almost extinct spider that inhabited the very deepest of country woodlands, bloodthirsty predators that were just barely smaller than a porcelain teacup. He had only seen a couple of cases in his lifetime, and both victims had died before the day was over, their entire bodies covered in sickly shades of black and violet. Even the strongest healers in those towns couldn't do anything to cleanse the venom that swam through their veins, their patients succumbing to the poison quicker than the white magic could root and take hold. He took in Amelia's ramrod posture, her clenched fists and bowed head, and knew that she was fully aware of the situation as well as he was.

She had seen it in the infirmary before, of soldiers who had fought against greedy and unjust men and brought home victory from vicious wars and grisly bloodbaths, only to suddenly fall ill to the fatal bite of the plagueblood spider. The most experienced shrine maidens at the time were unable to do anything, and Amelia remembered the terrifying hopelessness she felt as a powerless apprentice.

Panic knotted at her stomach so painfully that she wanted to throw up.

"You can heal him, can't you?" the little boy nudged her. "You're the best healer in the country, Amelia-sama. You can save my father!" His lower lip trembled, his hopeful green eyes wide and begging for his princess to accomplish the tremendous task. Her gaze switched from his stricken face to the trembling man that lay between them, back and forth and then back again, and she gave him a small, scared smile. She was soaked and freezing, on the verge of trembling even, but still she nodded and gathered every ounce of courage she'd ever had.

"You should have brought him to me sooner, but yes. I'll do what I can."

On her right ring finger, she wore a silver band, Cepheid's emblem displayed proudly across it with diamonds for eyes and emeralds for talons. She was only supposed to use it in extreme emergencies, and she hoped that He would understand the direness of the situation and not punish her for calling upon His power to amplify her own. Without His help, she had no chance of accomplishing this by herself. With a deep and collective breath, she raised her hand high above her head, facing Cepheid up into the crying heavens.

_"Lord of all purity with a brilliance beyond the dawn, grant me all the power that you possess."_

She felt the rush of energy sizzle through her hand, trickle down her arm and spark her heart with power and supremacy. Teeth chattering from both cold and adrenaline, she placed her hands above the wound in the man's neck, poured her life force into that one spot as she recited the most advanced _Resurrection_ spell known to a Seyruun priestess.

Astonished gasps and awestruck murmurs arose all around him at the display of the princess's breathtaking power, her people beaming at the scene with upmost loyalty and admiration. He circled around to get a better view of her actions, saw her eyes screwed shut as she channeled everything she had into this one spell, her hands glowing a blindingly bright white from the boost that Cepheid granted her. The little boy was kneeling forward, staring down at his father as the seconds ticked by, waiting for any signs of improvement.

Ten minutes went by and turned to twenty, which rolled into thirty, and still she sat with her hands poised over the sickly wound. From where he was standing, Zelgadis couldn't tell if any of it was fading; he only saw the color from her cheeks slowly begin to drain away as her skin grew more and more pale, her shoulders shaking from the cold.

She felt the coppery tang of blood rise up her throat but she held it back, cracking her eyes open to look down at the wound. The bruised colors had drawn away from his jawbone and chest, but at such a tantalizingly slow rate that she wanted to cry in fear that her power would kill her before she was done healing the boy's father.

_No, it has to be enough. It doesn't matter what happens to me._

When she felt a sudden warmth wrap around her shivering frame and the smell of lavender and sandalwood seep through her nose, she stared sorrowfully at the towering figure that stood above her, now without a cape of his own. Her hands continued to blaze in dazzling white flames as she burrowed herself further into the thick cape. "Thank you," she whispered.

With a grim look, he crouched down across from her, next to the little boy. "Let me help," he gently requested of her. "My healing can't compare to yours anymore, but you're going to end up killing yourself from burnout if you keep this up." He didn't give her any chance to argue with him, though she wanted to bat away his chastising comment, and he immediately raised his hands above the figure, a soft glow emitting from them as he cast _Recovery._

They didn't have time to toile with any emotional moments; his spell was much more minor than hers, and still he could feel the fatigue from how much of his life-force that this wound demanded. It tugged at every strand of his spell, pulled at his soul like a giant leech, but that just made him all the more aware of how intensified the tiring process was for her. He didn't know how much more time had passed – an hour or two, maybe – until the form between them sighed groggily and the little boy yelped in relief and excitement. Both mages dropped their hands.

"Look, it's almost gone, he's comin' to!" With nimble fingers, he tugged on his father's gray garments, shook him slightly as the man opened his eyes and rubbed his neck. "Dad! You're okay!"

"Eh?" Confusion took residence in the man's vacant expression, and he slowly sat up in the drizzling rain. "Tilud, what are we doing out here in the rain? What happened?"

Amelia opened her mouth to say something to her patient, but the little boy – Tilud – quieted her with a small tug on her soaked sleeve. "No, Amelia-sama, it's okay, you have done enough. I'll take him home and tell him everything." His eyes were wide and thankful and brimmed with tears, and he leapt forward to embrace her in a grateful hug. "You're the best princess ever."

Her arms, so weak and heavy, reached around his little frame to pat his pack reassuringly. "I'm glad I was able to help." She leaned back, gave him a tired smile. "Take him home and make him some tea, ne? He'll still need rest."

Tilud nodded emphatically and grabbed onto his dad's hand, yanking him to his feet and pulling him off into the direction of their home, the old man muttering angrily behind his son. Amelia would have chuckled if she hadn't felt so worn out, and she wrapped her cloak more tightly around her trembling body, forgetting for the time being where it came from.

Her face frightened him; the pale and translucent skin, faded blue eyes, and haggard expression, all gave away how much of a toll everything had taken on her. She gazed up at him now with those empty eyes, lids drooping in exhaustion, and all he wanted to do was get her home safely and into her warm bed. He stood up and offered her his hand.

She stared at it for a moment before accepting it, and he drew her to her feet. "You helped me save that man's life," she broke the silence. "He would have died if you hadn't have been here."

"No, you could have done it by yourself. I just made it so that you wouldn't get injured in the process." She blinked at him tiredly, and he waved the topic away in indifference. "It doesn't matter. We need to get you home."

She nodded in agreement, took a shaky step forward without too much trouble. It was her second step, however, that had her knee giving out from right underneath her, and she stumbled toward the cobblestone with a quiet yelp of surprise. But she knew, long before she saw her descent toward the hard ground, that her old companion and once upon a time savior would somehow catch her. And he did, resting her weight against his immovable body.

"Whoa, easy there, Amelia. Just lean on me, okay? I'll walk you back."

She stared up at him blankly. "You caught me."

With one arm still curled around her waist, he met her apathetic expression with his look of confusion. "Of course. It's bad enough you just completely drained yourself on healing a stranger. I wasn't going to let you crash to the ground too…"

_'Is it wrong to want to be caught in the arms that are already filled with the task of taking care of himself?'_

"Is that all?" she probed.

"Er…yes, that's all."

They still had a ways to go.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own slayers.


	6. Guardian

**Author's Notes:** I know, I know! It's been months. Hopefully it was worth the wait, and hopefully it won't take me so long to write the next chapter. Enjoy!

**Summary:** After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...

**

* * *

  
Chapter Five  
**'guardian'

_People can no longer cover their eyes  
__If this disturbs you, then walk away._

Disturbed

- -

He didn't like how the wolf was glaring at him. It had no concern for the rain that streamed down its thick black fur, didn't mind the puddles that its paws were soaking in. It just stared at him, cold and motionless, as if it knew what he had just done. He hated how a mere animal could probe him so much with its gaze alone.

"Hey, mister…"

Hidden behind a small bakery shop where he had watched the scene unfold, Kreoss stared down at the little boy that was tugging on his sleeve.

"Mister, did Pa and I do a good job?"

"Yes," he grinned slowly, knelt down in front of the boy. He held out a small bag of gold coins, which the boy eagerly accepted. "You were wonderful, Tilud. Thank you."

The boy smiled and ran happily after his father. But when Kreoss looked back over his shoulder, he frowned.

The wolf was gone.

- -

Her bleary mind was sinking into delirious depths, where her body felt weak and sore, her eyes blank and tired, her skin icy cold while inside she was fevered with Cepheid's sizzling power. She wanted to hold her head high, be proud of her accomplishment of saving a man's life, but was too drained to even do that, too exhausted to even walk on her own. And that, especially, stung her pride the most as she grudgingly allowed Zelgadis to hold her up while they trekked back to the castle in their pensive silence. This was a man who hadn't been there to support her in the past; how could she be consenting to it now? How could her body, already burdened with the fatigue of magic depletion, betray her even more by sinking to such a level of weakness that she needed to rely on his strength to simply stand?

But he lent her that strength until the very end of their path, his arm fastened around her waist even as they reached the safe shelter of her home. She was soaked and shivering, teeth clattering and shoulders shaking, with one arm looped around his neck just so she could remain vertical. Her free hand was pressed against her stomach where a clawing pain was becoming more and more insistent, but she bitterly choked back any rising whimpers. The self-loathing of her sudden condition was hard enough to cope with; she couldn't bear to be targeted by his disapproval as well.

Meanwhile her companion was just as drenched as she was, even more so without the protection of a cloak. And yet he maintained a cool and collected expression, seemingly unaffected by the entire experience. She didn't know whether to be awed by his composure or resentful of it, but the sting in her belly persuaded her to lean towards the latter.

He looked down at her paled face and drooping eyelids, let her rest against him for a moment when they reached the bottom of the staircase. "Do you want to go to your room?" he murmured to her, lips close enough to her ear so that his breath caressed her neck and sent intimate chills down her spine.

His posture may have been straight and his demeanor calm, but his voice held a pitch of tenderness that was persistent in warming and soothing her, left her heart aching with memories of the past. She nodded weakly against his shoulder, head lolling heavily with the effort, and he quietly eased her up the stairs, the short train of her gown dragging a trail of dirty rainwater behind them. Every stride he took was caring and gentle as he hoisted her up each step and navigated her through the chain of halls that led to the west wing. The great oak doors stood imposingly tall at the end of the corridor, her name elegantly carved into their polished surfaces, and he opened one for her and led her inside, letting it shut quietly behind them.

She slipped out from under his grasp without sparing him a glance, knowing her movements were still cautiously examined by his perusing stare. She could feel his eyes burning into her back, candidly watching her every step and motion, and a sudden feeling of shyness gripped her and she hastened her way to the closet. She hated how he could still have that effect on her, how even though she was soaked and shivering and miserable, her skin still sparked under his intense and watchful gaze, craving for more.

Even after she had left his side and he let his arm drop, his muscles still tensed and coiled in contraction, ready to react in case she fell again. He observed her hunched figure, was alert to her shaky footsteps and swaggering form, and had to swallow down the anxiety lumping in his throat. His every nerve seemed fused with worry as he watched her struggle through her steps to the other side of the room, but still he held his ground.

They may have lost whatever bond of friendship that had been developed during their travels, but there were certain qualities about Amelia that he would always be able to recognize and dissect. Her self-righteous attitude and sweet naivety were only her surface trademarks – though targeted quite often by their friends for the purpose of a joke – but it was her strong resolve that had earned a small measure of his respect from the very beginning. She had been fourteen with the willpower of a seasoned war general.

Now, he could see that she was using it to ward him off. She had such an air of determination to make it by herself, forcing her body through the painful movements of crossing her bedroom alone, and he knew it was because she didn't want his help. It was enough to make him seethe in irritation – from her stubbornness, and also his uselessness.

He exhaled slowly, an effort to cleanse himself of the dizzying annoyance. Zelgadis had his boundaries, had built certain lines long ago that he would never cross. He could feel concern for someone, didn't have qualms with wanting to reach out to a friend in need, but anything beyond that would be unacceptable. He had clearly done enough, a theory that she was proving right by fighting her frailty to walk on her own.

But Gods, what she had done was amazing.

He wearily rubbed the back of his neck, finally able to ease away some of the tension. "Will you be okay here?" he called out to her, forcing nonchalance into his voice.

Safely tucked away in her closet and away from his prying eyes, Amelia leaned against the wall, head bowed and hand grabbing at her stomach. Her body was aching, knees quaking and arms so heavy that she could barely raise them, and her stomach still had that throbbing twinge that now had her hissing out loud. She needed to get out of her wet clothes and into a hot bath and then maybe consider a nap. Preferably one that would last a decade.

"I'm fine now. Thank you, Zelgadis-san."

"Alright…" his voice trailed off, his hesitance apparent, and she suddenly remembered that she had something he probably wanted back.

"Oh, your cloak…" She gently fingered the trim of it, her heart twisting with emotion. It was a surprise when she had felt it drop onto her shoulders earlier as the harsh rain pelted down on her skin mercilessly. Although it shouldn't have shocked her that much; he had done sweet things for her in the past. Such as saving her life.

He heard her shuffling around and was quick to interrupt her. "I can get it later."

She gingerly slipped the thick material off of her shoulders, folded it over one arm as she turned to the doorway with a grave sigh. He only did what he had to do, and that was how things had always been. She learned long ago not to cling to his gestures, the empty signals that he'd send her without realizing how they could be interpreted by a love struck girl. And in that regard, at least, he was more naïve than even she.

She wanted to smile at that ironic thought, but let it pass. The kind of wisdom and awareness that Zelgadis possessed was still something to be envious of. If she had had that, then maybe she wouldn't have found herself in a grave on one horrifying night. Maybe she would have seen him coming sooner, could have prepared herself and fought him off…

_No._

There was no use in mulling over a past tragedy, and Amelia did so hate to be the victim. She was a fighter, a champion; not a damsel in distress. And her health needed her attention now. She gingerly held his cloak out before her, reached out her hand to lovingly smooth away any dirt or wrinkles. "There's no need for that, Zelgadis-san, I have it…right…"

The end of her sentence was drawn out in scared confusion as she stared dubiously at her hand. "Here…"

_Oh…_

"Amelia?" Zelgadis took a step forward. "What is it?"

Thick and dark, it shone ominously beneath the sparse daylight that made its way into her closet. A metallic odor tugged at her nostrils, reeking from the substance that coated her palm and squelched between her fingers, its ruby red color a sickly contrast against her creamy white skin. "Nothing," she attempted to respond evenly, though her heart raced with alarm and dread. She slowly trailed her eyes down the length of her arm and down to her belly. "Everything is fine."

He cautiously took a couple more steps. "No it's not. I can hear it in your voice."

She heard the nearing of his footfalls, tried to slow her breathing as she took in the sight of her midsection splotched with ample amounts of blood – _her_ blood – but she knew she wouldn't be able to retain whatever calmness she had mustered for him. She was panicking and she knew it – was aware of the insanely fast heartbeat, trembling hands, and near-crippling nausea. She was just moments away from an anxiety attack, and she had to get rid of him, fast.

"Come on, I'm just tired," she called back to him, poking her head out of the closet. "And I'm…embarrassingly indecent right now, Zelgadis-san, so please don't come any closer. But here's your cloak." She tossed it onto the floor several feet away from him, and retreated back inside. "Um, I'll check in with you later, okay?" _Please leave, please leave._

He walked over to his cloak and picked it up, holding his gaze to the closet's doorway. He had a strange feeling that tickled the back of his mind, an unwelcome feeling of unease that kept him rooted in place. "You're sure?" He didn't know what he expected her to say, didn't understand why he felt that something was just _wrong,_ but still he waited uncertainly for her answer.

"Yes, I just need to change and," she swallowed against her rattling nerves, "and take a bath. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay…" He backed away towards the exit in spite of his screaming instincts. "I'll come by in a bit." He wasn't asking for her permission to do so. She seemed to think nothing of it though as she answered in the affirmative, and with a shrug, he let himself out.

In her closet, Amelia collapsed.

_Cepheid, help me._

- -

He had almost made it to the east wing, intent on drawing a bath of his own and resting for a while, when he was approached by none other than the general of Seyruun's army.

In no way was Zelgadis a player for the other team, but he couldn't help but size the man up the first time he saw him that afternoon. The man, _Trevor-san_ as Amelia had referred to him oh-so-caringly, was a piece of work himself, appearing to be in his late thirties or early forties. He had recognized the strong physique of a trained swordsman and the dexterous grace of an experienced martial arts practitioner, saw the medals that graced his uniform and knew of his status before Amelia had spoken his name.

She had said it with such trust. She used to say _his _name like that.

He shook his head. Despite the man's accomplishments that Zelgadis would normally respect, he'd always had a problem with soldiers. They often had this scowl of disgust whenever they looked at him, which at first he gave credit due to his chimeric appearance, but he continued to receive them after he had been cured as well. Even the guards in Luo's small town had this particular sneer reserved just for him, quite similar to the one he was receiving now from the man approaching him.

Luo had told him it was because they could sense his 'power and potential' and felt threatened by it.

_Wise man, that Luo._

"Greywords-san." The general's face was a blank mask, eyes indifferent as he spoke with just the slightest hint of annoyance in his deep, commanding voice. "You will come with me to the throne room."

"Really." Zelgadis coldly stared back at him. "Actually, I'll be going to my room. Please excuse me, General." He moved past him easily, the other man making no gesture to stop his retreat. He only spoke, trusting the authority alone in his tone.

"His highness requests your audience." Zelgadis slowed to a stop at that peculiar statement. "You will come, Greywords-san."

He turned around, took in the general's smug expression and mirthful eyes, and he wanted to color that face black and blue with his fist. "Phil? What does he want with me?" _And why did he send you?_

Trevor's lip curled for a fraction of a second. "_His highness_ wishes to discuss a personal matter with you." He narrowed his eyes, lost some of the formality in his speech. "You ran after Amelia-dono in the rain and brought her back to her room like some waterlogged ragdoll. You expected her father to _not_ have anything to say?"

_Damn it. _The prick had a point, one that Zelgadis would normally discard without care, but this was _Prince Philionel's_ request. Overbearing as he was, Seyruun's sovereign was still a kind man and respectable leader. And he was Amelia's father. Her very, very over-protective father. Actually, it was a wonder why Zelgadis hadn't been summoned before this day.

He crossed his arms over his chest, nodded to the hallway ahead of them while staring straight into the general's eye. "What are you waiting for? Lead the way then."

"Glad you see it from my perspective."

- -

He didn't understand the sudden bout of nerves that wavered through him as they came to the grand archway, the majestic gold and marble entrance to the throne room curving high above his head and beckoning him forward. He saw the proverbial red carpet travel along the pristine floor, almost like the tongue of some vicious beast trying to swallow him whole, and it led all the way up to a raised platform with two thrones, one occupied by the colossal Crown Prince.

He was waiting patiently, perched high on his throne, dressed in his regal snow white garments and a cape that Zelgadis could probably pitch a tent with. A thick broadsword was belted to his waist and rested against his leg, carefully encased in a sheath of finest leather. His hair, both facial and otherwise, was unruly as usual, adding to the image that most people found fearful and intimidating.

Zelgadis did not feel intimidated, but as many times as he had encountered Seyruun's leader, they had never met in the throne room. It all seemed so official and it made him uneasy.

Trevor led him forward, stopping before the platform and gave the prince a formal salute. "Your highness, Greywords-san has arrived."

"Thank you, Trevor. Please standby." He saluted again and took his post off somewhere to the right to watch the scene from afar.

Zelgadis wasn't sure what to expect, but when Phil turned to him and smiled, he felt slightly more relaxed.

_Whoa. Never thought that'd be possible._

"Zelgadis-san, it's a pleasure to see you again," Phil bowed his head in greeting. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to arrange this meeting sooner."

He felt awfully confused in this situation. Was he supposed to kneel or something? Show his respect to the prince? He settled for an awkward nod in return, but then went a little deeper into a more formal bow. He could practically feel the scorn emanating from the general nearby at his horrid manners.

He straightened and smirked. "I did come unannounced. I wasn't exactly expecting a parade."

He regretted saying that when Phil responded with his own quip. "You know my daughter probably would have thrown you one," he grinned, drummed his fingers against the velvety armrest of his plush throne.

Zelgadis tried to remain impassive. "It would not have been necessary. I'm no fan of that much attention." His statement held a double meaning without him intending to make it so, but Phil didn't pick up on anything.

"Yes, yes, of course. My daughter is quite the exuberant one." His tone turned very serious then, and his face succumbed to the most solemn of expressions as he stared down at the ex-chimera. "Or rather she used to be, Zelgadis-san."

"Er…" What was this about?

"She's in trouble, isn't she?" the prince asked forlornly.

He didn't see that coming. He felt his shoulders jump in surprise, eyebrows shooting up when he saw Phil heave a sorrowful sigh and smooth his hands over his face in a gesture meant to alleviate stress. Then the prince looked back up at him with the most tired expression that he had ever seen on the man, creases of worry lining his face and eyes that drooped with sad acknowledgment.

"I'm no fool. I know that's why you're here."

Zel spoke with caution. "Nothing is certain. I don't have anything to go on." He moved his gaze to the illustrious paintings that gracefully decorated the walls, some that were six times his height, and found it easier to speak without maintaining eye contact. "I had dreams. Nightmares. I didn't think much of it at first, but then the Sage that was housing me revealed that he was receiving them as well. He called them visions. He told me to come back here."

"So it was not your choice to come…"

He realized how bad it sounded when phrased that way, but it was also _wrong_. He would not have admitted that nearly three weeks ago when he had started his journey, but now he felt confident of his motives when he returned his stare back to the prince's drawn features. "I would never let anything happen to your daughter if I could help it." It was a bold comment to make, but an obvious one that wasn't a secret. He had given that up long ago when he took a near-fatal blow from Gaav's sword. "Though yes, Luo did give me the proof that I was subconsciously looking for."

Phil perked up a little at that, gave him a wan smile. "That's very good to hear, Zelgadis-san. However, I'm not sure how safe she will be with you." He saw the shock on the man's face and shook his head. "Don't misunderstand me, I am very appreciative of everything you all have done to save this world, but that is a burden much too heavy for my young daughter to bear over and over again. She has been through too much." He grimaced, clutched his armrest in great distress.

_Not safe with you…_

Zelgadis took a step back, everything falling into place now, the reason as to why Phil had called for him in the first place blaring in his mind as it dawned on him. "You…you want me to leave." He hadn't foreseen the possibility of this happening, that even though Amelia would allow him to stick around, her father might not. He cursed silently in his head for not considering it. Prince Phil loved his daughter more than anything else in the world and would do anything possible to shield her from harm.

He just so happened to think that the harm was Zelgadis.

Thick silence stretched between them for many moments, Zel quickly returning to his emotionless state of stone, mind racing through what actions he should take to slip out of the castle as soon as possible, and maybe leave a letter or something for Lina, explaining the situation. Phil retained his expression of gravity as he watched the ex-chimera stumble around in his thoughts, his hand caressing the hilt of his sword as he, himself, appeared to be in deep pondering.

Zelgadis had just made the decision to write a note for Lina when, very unexpectedly, he heard laughter booming throughout the room, ricocheting from every wall and gripping his heart with its deep bass. Completely bewildered, he gawked at the prince that was now standing on the platform, just in front of the step that led down to the lower floor, with his head thrown back as he guffawed with all his might.

Tears were practically leaking out of the hulk's eyes as he fought to catch his breath. "Oh, my dear boy, you should have seen your face!" Bent over now, he slapped his knee in good humor. "Oh-ho, I've still got it!"

Zel's eye twitched. "_Excuse me?_"

"Silly man, you should know better than to think I would kick you out!" Phil unceremoniously wiped the tears from his eyes, his face red with lack of oxygen. He took the step down to the ground level and attempted to pull his mannerisms back into a more serious, refined state. "While I still hold true to my concerns, it would be quite unwise of me to send away the one person who can protect my daughter the best."

Zelgadis glanced around him candidly, not knowing at all what to expect anymore. "Forgive me sir, but where are you going with this _now?_"

"Yes, yes, I am getting to that, impatient one. Now just kneel before me."

"Kneel!?"

"We are wasting time, Zelgadis-san! Hurry!"

"Er…" Very hesitantly, he lowered himself down to one knee, sitting back on his heel as he stared at the prince's immaculate white boots. "Really now, what is this all about?"

"Ahem," Phil cleared his throat, and Zel heard the metallic clink of a sword being drawn from its sheath.

His eyes almost popped out. "Am I being _beheaded!?_"

"Silence! This is a very important ritual, Zelgadis-san, it will not harm you."

"O…kay…"

He felt the cool metal of the prince's broadsword fall against his shoulder – on its flat side, thankfully. In the back of his mind, he marveled at how it was wielded. It was a thick and heavy weapon, meant for two-handed use, and yet Philionel brandished it in just one beefy hand with ease.

His voice was, for once, calm and low as he stared down at the kneeling man before him. "Young man, this sword has been in my family for centuries, used to bestow new ranks amongst our men and promote those who are worthy to a higher standing in the eyes of the royalty."

_O…kay…_

"My daughter, Princess Amelia Wil Tesla Seyruun, guided by the holy hand of Cepheid, is in need of such a man on this plane to watch over her and protect her from the evil that this demon seeks to wreak upon her."

_Now just wait a minute, here…_

"Zelgadis Greywords, I hereby instate you as her watcher."

_Oh, do you?_

"With the general of the Seyruun army here as a witness to this ceremony, your mission, which I am assuming that you will accept, is to protect my daughter, Princess Amelia Wil Tesla Seyruun, from all harm that comes her way, from all malicious intentions that are focused upon her, and from any inner distress that could cause her mind to slip into any kind of terrain of misery."

_Is that all?_

Zelgadis kept his jaw clenched throughout the 'ritual', remained still as the sword's blade moved from shoulder to shoulder lest he lose an ear, and waited for Prince Phil to finish a chant in some ancient holy language before being spoken to again.

"Zelgadis Greywords, you are now bound by duty to the royalty of the Seyruun bloodline until your task has been carried out. As my daughter's guardian, I expect you to succeed in said task. Failure is not an option."

Silence.

"Well don't just sit there, my boy! Stand up and talk to me," Phil slapped him on the shoulder in jest. Zel nearly fell over from the impact.

He rubbed his shoulder, stared up at the hulk warily. "Sir…what the hell was that all about?"

"What's that, now? You said you would never let anything happen to Amelia," Phil grinned. "So this should not be any issue whatsoever. I have to do my part, you know, without getting…too involved. This was the best I could do without overstepping my boundaries as a father."

"By performing some kind of knighting ritual…?" He gingerly got to his feet.

"Well, yes, if that's what you'd like to call it. No matter, it's all said and done now. You are officially bound to her, and any acts of disobedience will be dealt with in a criminal court under the charges of treason." The roaring laughter resumed once more and Zelgadis started to back away slowly, glancing furtively at the exit behind his shoulder and praying he could just slip out without further progress in the conversation. He had enough to think about.

Phil caught the gesture and waved him away. "That's alright now, go on. I can imagine that there is much for you to tell her."

"I suppose there is," Zelgadis agreed, shuffling closer to the magnificent archway. "Er…thanks for the…honor?" How utterly awkward the situation was becoming.

"Thanks are not needed. You may take your leave now, Zelgadis-san."

"Right." With a final bow, he turned around and left.

From his post, Trevor strode forward to stand beside the prince. "Your highness, are you sure this was a wise move?"

Philionel stared hard at where the young man had walked out with an expression of calculated certainty and gave the general a firm nod. "There's no doubt in my mind. I could see it in his eyes, he was telling the truth when he said he would never let anything happen to my Amelia. He wants to protect her."

He took a few steps forward, lifted his gaze to the domed ceiling where a giant mural of Cepheid took residence and smiled ironically. "The question is, will she let him?"

- -

He was walking away from the throne room when he realized he still held his cloak in his hand, balled up and gripped in a tight fist. He stared down dubiously at the crumpled article, remembered the person that it had protected earlier in the day.

_Protect._

…_Guardian?_

The word was spinning through his head, gave him a feeling of importance that both thrilled and frightened him. He didn't know anything about being a bodyguard or protecting people. He suspected that he was pretty awful at it, considering the pain and hurt feelings he had inflicted upon others in the past. Well, he certainly didn't want any harm to come to Amelia and was prepared to fight off whatever evil force was after her. She was his friend; he couldn't imagine doing anything less.

But a guardian to a princess? It was such a prestigious title that he didn't deserve, nor was he sure he wanted it. When had he ever shown such inclinations? What made Phil put his trust in him, of all people?

Scenes flashed through his head in a rapid, dizzying montage. Pushing Amelia away from an enormous spider; shadowing her in the castle when her father had been presumed dead; holding her while she nearly bled to death after Saygram's attack and intercepting Gaav's vicious strike soon after; carrying her through the winding tunnels beneath Sairaag after enduring a painful blow to her head.

He came to a sudden halt, an incredulous look surfacing on his face.

_I was doing it the whole time. I've always protected her._

What did it all mean?

It didn't have to mean anything, he insisted and continued walking. Lina was the most independent, foul tempered, irrational and pigheaded woman he had ever met in his entire life, and yet she had no qualms with Gourry referring to himself as her bodyguard. If Lina allowed it without feeling any embarrassment, stubborn as she was, then surely he could come to grips with his position himself.

Plus, he had kind of gotten tricked into it.

_Thanks, Phil._

He suppressed an annoyed groan and moved to un-crumple his cloak so he could fold it over his arm. It was still damp and he could feel his fingertips wrinkling from the moisture. He still couldn't get used to the annoying syndrome; he had never had to worry about pruny fingers before when his skin was rock.

He flapped it open from the compacted ball it had been bunched up in, holding it up before him, and then promptly stopped when he saw it.

His face twisted into a look of horror and shock. There were streaks and blotches of it, dotting the lining of his cloak in red-brown color. He had seen enough of it in his lifetime to determine what the substance was. _Blood._

_Amelia's_ blood. It had to be. The cloak was clean when he had draped it over her trembling form.

But it was also impossible. He had been there the whole time, watching and speculating. Aside from the ensuing fatigue, nothing had happened on their way back to the castle.

His mind then raced through the events that took place in her chambers. She had stowed herself away inside of her closet, tired but acting normally.

'_I'm fine now. Thank you, Zelgadis-san.'_

And then she had offered to give him his cloak back. That was when her mood had changed; she was scared, and he had picked up on it.

'_Come on, I'm just tired. And I'm…embarrassingly indecent right now, Zelgadis-san, so please don't come any closer. But here's your cloak.'_

So, the panic that he had imagined in her voice was real. She must have seen her own injury and threw his cloak out to get rid of him.

Well, it certainly wasn't going to be that easy.

Without another moment of thought, he took off for the west wing once more.

- -

He didn't bother knocking. When he flung open her door and rushed inside, the first thing he heard was muffled whimpering coming from her bathroom. He slammed the door shut behind him and charged forward with panicked strides.

"Amelia!" His voice was frantic. He hated it, even though he had shouted her name many times before in that exact same worried tone. And somehow, he knew that this time wouldn't be the last. He would always be afraid for her.

It was officially his duty now.

All at once, the crying and whimpering stopped. And then very timidly, "Zelgadis…san?"

"Amelia…" He reached her bathroom, the door already open to reveal the mess that lay beyond. His hands gripped the doorframe on either side of him as his eyes, wide and unflinching, took in the agonizing scene spread before him, his heart nearly in his throat. He pursed his lips together in an effort to control his outrage as he noted every spec of pain that graced the lush room.

She scrambled away from him on the hard wood floor, pressed her back up against the wall opposite him while attempting to hide her face behind a curtain of ebony hair. She pressed a bloodied towel against her abdomen, her hand shaking violently as she hunched her body over her folded legs.

She was clothed in different attire than when he had left her. A loose white tee-shirt was now bunched up around her midsection just below her breasts, wrinkled and dotted with crimson from her stomach injury, and she wore a pair of black linen knee-length leggings. Her luxuriously huge bathtub was filled with soapy red-brown water, and he saw her pale green dress floating in it as the hot water worked its way through the stains.

How she had managed to change in her condition was beyond him, but the fact that she had made it a priority infuriated him. He pushed away from the doorframe and went into the bathroom, flared his nostrils as he stepped over the several bloodstained rags that littered the floor.

His hands were shaking as he kneeled in front of her, searching for her eyes that desperately tried to evade him.

_This…this has got to stop,_ he thought darkly. _Why did she send me away?_

_Foolish girl._

He rested his palm over her soiled hand, nearly growled when she clutched tighter onto the towel. "Move," his low voice eerily rumbled.

Just that one intense command was enough to snap her head forward to meet his grim features. Free from the screen that her hair had provided, her eyes flaunted with powerful emotion. They no longer held the cool, guarded distaste that she had been serving him thus far; they were shimmering with tears now, shining brightly with pain and desperation, almost pleadingly so as she stared hard into his own. Her chest was heaving with retained sobs that she refused to let slip through her parted lips.

"It won't stop bleeding," she whispered to him and shook her head ever so slightly. "I tried to heal it, but I was still too weak."

"Move your hand, Amelia."

She helplessly stared into his cold and unwavering gaze. His voice was so even. Controlled. She knew what it meant, that it was a carefully constructed mask for his anger. She had seen him control his fury many times in that form. But she had never been on the receiving end of it, and it scared her.

"Move. It. Now."

She cringed, slowly slid her hand away and watched his eyes drop down to her belly. She tried to ignore the fire in those aquamarine depths, pretended that his muscles weren't tensed in rage and his jaw wasn't clenched in yet another effort to push down his black feelings.

She almost gasped when his hands touched the bare skin of her stomach, tender and gentle as they stroked her skin smoothly in spite of how rigid his posture was. A _recovery_ spell was already on his lips, his fingertips glowing with a calming white that flowed into her wound and warmed her belly. Her eyes never left his face as he studied her injury with a passion that shot excitement through her. Or maybe it was his hands gliding across her skin that gave her the feeling, she couldn't be sure.

The spell did nothing to return her fading strength, but she could feel the wound closing, the pain beginning to fall away from his soothing ministrations. But she knew she couldn't allow herself to get too relaxed. He would have questions, and she wouldn't be able to keep the story from him any longer. Already she could see the confusion working its way into his furrowed brow at the now closed, but still visible scar.

"It's not going to heal all the way," she told him gently. He glanced up at her, eyes marked with question. She slowly tugged her shirt down over her belly, a light blush accenting her cheeks. "I've tried."

He pulled his hands away, surprised at his reluctance to do so. "What are you talking about?"

"I still haven't figured out why." She was hugging her arms to her chest now, staring at him through a thin layer of tears. His voice was still so oddly neutral. "A wandering swordsman visited our land once. He had a strange scar on his cheek…he told me that sometimes, a scar can't fade if it was caused by someone who was filled with extreme hatred."

Why was she telling him this? "I don't care about any wanderers, Amelia. Are you saying that this was an old injury?"

Her bottom lip quivered and she nodded, a few tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Her whole body felt so utterly heavy. It had gone through both magical and physical abuse within the last three hours, and she was buckling under the burden of it. But she couldn't collapse now, not with his voice still so detached.

The tables had turned, and she couldn't stand it.

Zelgadis shook his head in confusion. "I saw it just now, Amelia. It was a fresh wound, open and bleeding pretty damn heavily." _And you knew about it when you sent me away._

"It's never done that before," she protested weakly. She bit her lip. "How did you even know about it?"

He pointed to his cloak, which lay in a heap by the doorway. "Your blood was on it."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Finally, he let some of his anger seep into his voice. "You were bleeding all over the place, Amelia! And you…you told me to _leave_. Why?" He glared at her and she shrunk away. "Whatever resentment you have towards me, however deep this grudge of yours really runs, we need to figure it out and deal with it."

He saw more tears trickle down her flushed cheeks, her shoulders slumped over and her eyelids drooping with both sorrow and weariness. She looked exhausted, and he suddenly felt a touch of guilt. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "But not now."

She looked up at him. "What? Don't you want to know what happened?"

"Yes. But right now, I care more about your health. You need rest. Come on." He stood and offered her his hand.

It was like a repeat of the scene that had occurred just hours earlier out in the pouring and unforgiving rain. She hesitantly took his hand and he pulled her up, but her knees immediately gave out on her, threatened to drag her back down to the floor. And of course, he caught her again.

But he scooped her up in his arms this time without wasting another thought or moment, and no words were said between them as he carried her out of the bathroom and over to her bed. He gently laid her down on the downy white comforter, resting her head against a fluffy pillow. "When you wake up, you'll tell me everything. Okay?" he firmly told her, gazing down at her worn features.

"Okay," she whispered back to him.

"And I'll tell you everything, too," he quietly added as an afterthought. After all, he still hadn't explained his own reasons for being there. He reached over to a burgundy throw blanket that lay folded at the foot of her bed and pulled it up around her body, tucking it around her small form at either side.

Sleep was already beckoning to her enticingly, and she stifled a yawn. "The doors, Zelgadis-san," she murmured sleepily. "They need to be open."

It took him a second to realize which set of doors she was referring to, and he nodded, still bent over her. "I'll take care of it," he assured her.

It seemed like that was the last thing she needed to get off her chest, because she let her eyes drift closed after that, succumbing to the soothing comfort of a deep sleep.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Slayers. And yes, there was a Rurouni Kenshin reference. Couldn't help myself.


	7. Revelations

**Author's Notes:** Um, yeah…lavender hair or no, it's staying brown in my fic. Anyway, this will be another sluggish installment, but I'll be putting more action into this story starting next chapter. So stick around!

Also, this was a much harder chapter to write than I had originally thought. It took a helluva lot of effort to get into the heads of our main characters and detail every emotion and reaction. I really hope I accomplished this and did a good job. It took a lot out of me, so please, have mercy.

**Summary:** After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...

**

* * *

****  
Chapter Six  
**'revelations'

_The worst is over now, and we can breathe again  
__I want to hold you high, you steal my pain away._

Amy Lee & Seether

- -

_It is so hard to think with this torrent of emotions rampaging through my heart, snatching away everything I am and submerging me in a grave of anxiety. I use those words because that is exactly how it feels – like a coffin, keeping me trapped and suffocated where no one can reach me. I won't let them._

- -

When Seyruun's magical defenses faltered, Sylphiel grew worried. She and the princess had worked diligently with a small crew of clerics to build those barriers not three years ago, upon Amelia and her father's sudden request. Sylphiel was a polite, well-mannered shrine maiden, knew better than to ask invasive questions of the royal family. So when Prince Philionel had solemnly asked for her help in strengthening Seyruun's defenses, she had graciously accepted and rolled up her sleeves to aid the princess in getting the job done.

But today she felt that magic weaken considerably, and it wasn't her own. She had heard the news circulating throughout the city that was now her home, the excited chatter of the townsfolk that spoke of the miracle that had happened amongst the streets. According to the buzzing news that traveled along the proverbial grapevine, the princess had done the impossible and cured an incurable disease. Sylphiel herself had been locked away in the temple all day, reading the reports of a plague outbreak in the Coastal Alliance States, when an apprentice relayed the day's happenings to her.

Sylphiel knew not of the man that had supposedly helped Amelia in healing this individual, but she did know that the princess must have had to expend herself quite drastically to cure his fatal illness. While she was proud of her fellow white mage for going to such great lengths to help one of her people, Sylphiel felt the consequences in the atmosphere around the castle as the magic faltered and dimmed.

_They gave me a home. If only I could rebuild the shield alone so that Amelia-san wouldn't have to be bothered…_

But she knew it wouldn't be that easy. The defenses were as strong as they were due to the combined power of the two priestesses. Sylphiel alone couldn't compensate for her partner's missing half of the spell, no matter how powerful she was in the art of white magic. And now with the castle susceptible to any attack from Mazoku, she felt more than a little anxious.

She sighed and laid down the report that she had been mindlessly reading over, stretched her arms over her head. She would just have to request an audience with the princess tomorrow to remedy the situation. It had been a couple of months since she had last spoken to Amelia, but she was sure that she would see the severity of the predicament and would help immediately. It was the only way.

_If only I had been there today. Then I could have helped shoulder the burden and she wouldn't have had to weaken her life-force so much._

Her mind was just starting to turn to the question of who _had_ helped her, when she heard the temple's front doors creak open.

She looked up in confusion. Outside, dusk painted the sky a dark gray, evidence of what hour it was and how long she had been sitting there at her writing desk. Her work had given her cause to stay late that evening, well after all of the other clerics had returned to their homes. She didn't have any appointments lined up either. But sure enough there was a figure there, a shadow that slipped through the doors and hovered in the entryway.

Sylphiel pushed away from her desk and stood. "Can I help you?" she smiled hesitantly.

The person wore a billowing velvety cloak, meant to conceal the body and shadow the face, but she could make out the delicately arched eyebrows and high cheekbones of a woman as she seemingly glided closer.

"I certainly hope so," the strange woman responded loftily. She tossed her head back and her hood fell away to reveal tresses of glossy black hair and a condescending expression. "You _are_ the accomplished Sylphiel Nels Lahda, are you not?"

Sylphiel blinked in surprise at the woman's bluntness and fidgeted under her unwavering stare. "Well, I am Sylphiel, yes. And you are?"

She chuckled and shook her head, but a clear revulsion was evident in her deep blue eyes. "I am nobody to this place," she nearly whispered. Her features hardened then, and she stared coolly at the antsy shrine maiden before her. "But Seyruun's defenses have gone down, and you and I are going to work together to rebuild them."

"Um…" Sylphiel furtively glanced back over her shoulder to where the rear entryway lay. She slowly started to inch towards it. "Your concern is appreciated, but that really isn't something that we accept outside help for…"

The woman suddenly slammed a gloved hand down on the desk that separated them, and Sylphiel squeaked. "Maybe you're not getting my drift here," the stranger said calmly, though her gaze was powerful and steady. "But we have problems, lady. And I need your help, just as much as you need mine."

Sylphiel frowned at the woman's rudeness, didn't waste another moment before withdrawing her rod. She pointed it at the imposing figure, eyes narrowed in a way that she hoped seemed menacing. "I should let you know that I do not respond well to being threatened." Inwardly she cringed, disappointed with her meek and gentle voice that she could never seem to empower up to a louder capacity. But she raised her chin anyway and gripped her rod more tightly. "I may be a priestess, but I know the Dragon Slave."

The woman only raised her eyebrows at her claim, and that deflated Sylphiel's ego quite a bit. She had been hoping for a more terrified reaction, like whenever Lina's name was spoken in front of a crowd of innocent patrons on the streets. It was true that she lacked the infamous dragon spooker's intimidation and frank mannerisms, but the Dragon Slave was still a mark of power that Sylphiel had worked hard to attain.

"How did someone like _you_ learn to cast the Dragon Slave?" the woman asked skeptically.

"Oh…well, I really just had to watch closely, but I suppose that indirectly I learned it from Lina--"

"_Don't_ say that name," the woman interjected abruptly, thrust her palm in front of Sylphiel's wide eyes. With her mouth set in a thin line, she turned her back on the confused shrine maiden, cloak swaying regally with the motion. "Gawd, seven years and she's _still_ the talk of the damn continent," she muttered.

"What was that, Miss?"

She waved the question away. "Nothing, we are wasting time. You must trust me, Sylphiel. Someone planned for this to happen."

With both her curiosity and deepest fears piqued, Sylphiel slowly walked out from behind her desk and took a few cautious steps forward. "How do you know that?" she softly probed.

The woman shrugged, let an ironic smirk tug at a corner of her mouth.

"Just think of me as a very observant ally."

- -

_It hurts to breathe, it hurts to just lay here and feel my heart beat. The thousands of tears that I have shed have left me feeling so hollow and drained. What am I supposed to do? How can I get through this? Everything hurts so much, and all I want to do is lie in bed and cry._

- -

The sorrow that hung in the air was stifling, the sky beyond the single window black and ominous, as if it weren't the sky at all – but a hollow abyss, swirling and howling wildly against the rattling glass. A single torch was lit in the far corner of the room, flickering with a snarling fire that cast the room in monstrous shadows, forms that were warped and twisted and ravenously reaching toward the willowy figure that stood facing an intricate round mirror. She had one hand gracefully pressed against the wall in front of her as she gazed listlessly at her own reflection, locks of raven hair streaming to one side with the slightest tilt of her head.

The stone floor on which he stood was jagged and freezing, numbing the soles of his bare feet as he slowly stepped into the creaking room to approach the vision of beauty. A flowing white nightgown wrapped around her slender frame in rippling silk in a very pleasing manner, and yet it seemed almost too angelic, made her seem so much older than her innocent nineteen years. The weak lighting flashed shadows across the exposed skin of her shoulders and back, pockets of darkness that did not belong on the portrait of purity that she was exhibiting.

She raised her other hand, pressed that one against the wall too as she leaned in closer to her reflection. The pain and depression he felt emanating from this graceful young woman had his heart racing with worry and he stopped several feet away from her in uncertainty.

There was an annoyingly insistent pounding against the window that he tried to tune out as he spoke to her. "What is this place?" he tentatively asked her, furrowing his brow at the wretched shadows that crawled across the room.

She didn't look his way, didn't even jump when he had made his presence known to her. "I do not know," was her soft reply. Her voice was eerily flat, but not from indifference. It was hopelessness that he had sensed, and it scared him.

"What are you looking at?" he tried again, trying to keep his own tone calm and leveled.

She didn't answer him right away, only moved her chin this way and that while she continued her curious inspection. She finally rested her forehead against the glass with downcast eyes. "I want to know what he sees in me."

"What who sees in you, Amelia?" he gently probed.

She sighed then, let her eyes drift closed. "How am I supposed to know?" she whispered. The shadows around them grew thicker and larger, coloring to a deeper black that smothered her skin and stained her lovely nightgown. But she was oblivious to it, eyes closed to the effects of the room around her.

The pounding grew louder, and he had to strain his ears to hear her next words. "It's just too damn much, Zelgadis-san…"

His hands shook at the sense of defeat that laced her quiet voice. His vision darted from shadow to shadow as they slithered and slunk across the floor, all hungering for the angel before him. He took a step forward, wanting to get her out of this stone prison and away from the lurking evils that so greedily wished to consume her.

Her eyes flew open at his approach; a web of cracks suddenly cut through the mirror and shards of glass flew everywhere, splinters and chunks embedding into her smooth skin while other pieces fell to the floor around her, a littering of promised pain. She didn't even flinch, instead turning her gaze to finally rest on his shocked expression. He had to fight down the nausea that clogged his throat when he saw what was there, glaring at him.

"Stay back!" she screeched, blinking against the blood that pooled at the bottom of her eye sockets. Several drops spilled over in crimson rivulets, trailing down her soft pale cheeks in bloody paths. She slid down the stone wall, pressed herself against it as she looked at him fearfully.

"It's just too damn much, Zelgadis-san," she repeated, quieter this time. He reached his hand out to her, but the pounding was deafening, gripped his heart with such paralyzing force. She looked up at him through her tears of blood, sniffled quietly.

"It's here."

The window shattered, and the blackness devoured her.

- -

He jarred awake with a cry on the tip of his tongue, one that he was able to clamp down on at the very last moment when realization flooded back to him of his whereabouts. He was breathing hard, panting almost, flickering his gaze around the darkened room as his heart rate began the process of slowing to a normal beat. His sword was at his side, and he gripped its handle with tightly bottled emotion, the familiarity of the object helping to put his overworked mind at ease.

_It was just another dream._

Moonlight trickled in through the open set of balcony doors, kissing every surface in the room with a sweet silver glow. He looked hard for demonic shapes in the darkness of the room's corners, but found only filmy shadows, gentle outlines in the night that held no significance whatsoever. The room itself had a cozy feel to it despite its lavishness, and when he couldn't sense any malice lurking about, he let himself exhale with relief.

_Only a dream._

He stretched his legs out along the fluffy blue carpet. A lovely breeze was continuously drifting in, scented with grass and flowers and rain. It gave a small measure of comfort to his stiff body, sore from where he had been crouched for hours, his back against a wall while he watched over the slumbering woman in the plush bed before him. He had taken his residence there after briefly returning to his room to retrieve his trusty sword, and on an impulse, he had also grabbed a certain old keepsake.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he was loath to admit that the events of the day had worn him down as well. The night visions were terrifying and heart-wrenching, but the sleep had been much needed, though he knew bed rest was necessary for a full recovery.

There were, however, more important things to tend to first.

Zelgadis drew himself to his feet. Amelia was sleeping deeply, her body still mending from the strenuousness of the day's occurrences, but still he walked over and peered closely into her face. It was smooth and relaxed, no lines of worry weaving their way through the soft skin there, evidence of a peaceful and carefree slumber. He was even tempted to crack open an eyelid, but knew that he couldn't risk waking her, couldn't jeopardize the refuge her mind had finally found after the exhaustion it had been subjected to.

He settled for tucking her blanket more securely around her, and made his way out to the balcony.

- -

The white-hot pain was still blindingly present, but the vision was not. He let Chaos devour him, spike through his mind and stab into his very essence, the blackness and wretchedness of the abyss grabbing and shredding any thought that he possessed. He kept his entire being devoted to Chaos' demands, showed his loyalty to it by letting it devour everything that he was. This was the deal that he had with Chaos. Chaos never refused him.

Until now. He still saw nothing.

He should have been angry. Furious. Enraged. But he wasn't. Instead he backed away from the radiant and colorful mists, fingers of black vapor reaching out to him greedily as his body reformed safely away from Chaos' grasp, and he laughed into the shimmering void. It responded by shrinking away, the colors molding themselves back into the blackness in which they had fled from.

Behind him, his loyal servant knelt patiently. "What did you see, my lord?"

He was still laughing, a throaty, evil rumble that carried across the dimension in horrifying vibrations. "I saw nothing, Kreoss," he admitted.

"I'm sorry?"

"I saw nothing," he repeated. "Chaos showed me nothing."

Kreoss sputtered. "What? But it always shows you what you wish to see."

"This was not Chaos' doing," the dark entity generously clarified. He slowly turned around to stare down at his kneeling servant, a lopsided smirk evident on his face. "Someone cast a protection spell around the castle."

"That's not possible," Kreoss immediately denied.

"Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat and lowered his head in respect, hoping to recover from his improper manner of speaking. "Apologies, Master. But your target was most certainly incapable of performing such a spell in the condition that I left her in. Her magic is what keeps my kind out, and I took the necessary actions to weaken that."

"You are right, Kreoss. Do not think that your accomplishment went unnoticed by me."

Kreoss bowed his head deeper. "Thank you, Master."

"Unfortunately, this means that someone else took up the responsibility of summoning a protective ward. Not only have you lost your window to access the consecrated grounds of the palace, but now I cannot even see into it."

That smirk was still on his master's face, pushing Kreoss into a state of mild confusion. What was there to smile about when their plan had just completely backfired? But he knew better than to ask such a blunt question, lest he lose his tongue for his insolence. "What do we do now?" he carefully asked instead, the natural question masking his true concerns.

The greater force turned back to the dancing colors of the abyss, felt Chaos tug at his mind once more, beckoning and seducing him to fall into its arms. But Chaos couldn't give him what he wanted this time, and so he had to refuse. "I may not be able to enter your world yet, Kreoss, but I can still reach out to the people in it; or rather, they reach out to me. Yes, those poor, wretched souls with such pained hearts and wounded prides, those beings with no hope left in their world that call out to me even across the dimensional walls. I can hear their desperate cries from here."

He lifted a hand, glided it across the brilliant kaleidoscope, reveled in the sparks that ignited beneath his fingertips. "Do not worry. I have eyes and ears on the inside."

- -

_Her blood was everywhere. She died right in front of me. I saw her eyes, so wide in pain and shock, slowly glass over as she released her final breath. Yes, I saw it all. And I did nothing. I couldn't save her. I am worthless._

- -

It was well into the night when Amelia stirred awake. Her body felt heavy as lead, sore from the abuse that she had put it through, but still she cracked open both eyes to the darkness that surrounded her. A lazy smile spread across her face when she inhaled the faint scent of lavender and sandalwood, precious aromas that blanketed her senses and made her feel at peace.

_His smell…_

She rolled over onto her left side, facing her balcony doors. As promised, he had left them open, and she reveled in the glorious moonlight and lukewarm breezes that rushed in. The light wind caressed her face and toyed with her hair in total serenity, and she tenderly breathed in the night air. His fragrances became stronger as her mind drifted into a higher awareness, and with that came the noticing of the long shadow that split through the moonlight on the carpet, traveling all the way out to her balcony.

She slowly sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tousled her hair to remedy any case of bed-head. She looked down at her apparel and frowned. Her short leggings still fit snug and comfortably, but her shirt, once a crisp white, was now wrinkled and bloodstained. She scrunched her nose, but crawled toward the edge of her bed and gingerly hopped down. Changing wasn't really an option; he would hear her rummaging about and she didn't want him to think it was for his benefit.

Her legs were stiff, muscles tight, but she had the strength to stand and walk with enough ease. She used the edge of her bed first for support, and when she met the corner, she was able to wean herself off of it to pace on her own. She crept over to her balcony doors and cautiously peered around the edge of the doorway.

As she had predicted – as she had known – he was standing there with his hands on the stone railing, staring off into the night. His silhouette was outlined by the brilliant silver that showered him, his dark hair blowing gently in the breeze that wafted past him and into her room, touching her face, too, as it drifted by. Her heart fluttered slightly at the thought that the same wind had just touched them both, even though that wasn't exactly a unique occurrence. But for some reason, it felt more intimate now.

She smiled faintly and stepped out on the balcony, bare feet coming into contact with cool marble. A shudder went through her when she saw his body tense upon noticing her presence.

_I really hope this doesn't turn awkward or anything…_

He turned around, let his gaze roam over her figure and appearance. The look in his eyes was unreadable, but she glanced away, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks. "I know, I know. I look like hell," she said weakly, brow furrowed and lips pursed.

She heard the smirk in his voice when he responded. "No, you just look like you've been _through_ hell, princess."

Her eyes snapped forward and she pouted ever so slightly. "Hey! I've seen you in worse conditions, Zelgadis-san."

"And how many times was it because of you?" was his light retort.

"Only, like, once or twice..."

She thought he would chuckle, but his expression turned to one of severity, and he seemed to be studying her, staring hard into her eyes. She raised her fingers to the bottom of her eyelids, smoothed them over the skin there self-consciously. "What is it? Is something wrong with my eyes?"

_Maybe I didn't get all the sleep out. Oh dear, how embarrassing!_

She rubbed them a bit, trying to do so as femininely as one could in such an unglamorous predicament. It seemed that he had realized what he was doing though, and he promptly shook his head, dropping his gaze to some object he was toying with in his right hand. "No, nothing. Just making sure you're alright."

"Oh." She let her hands fall away from her face and squinted, narrowing her eyes to see what he kept turning over in his hand. A blue stone caught the moonlight, glimmered beautifully beneath it while resting on top a pink ribbon that folded silkily into his palm.

Her eyes widened in awe. "Is that…?"

"Yes." He was smirking again, and he plucked the ribbon from his palm to dangle it between them. "I went to get it after you fell asleep. I don't know why…it just felt right."

"You really kept it." She stepped closer to him, held her hand out beneath the swinging bracelet to cup the familiar sapphire stone. The gem itself wasn't what mesmerized her, but the feeling that washed through her.

'_I'm only loaning it to you, Zelgadis-san. I want it back, okay?' _the memory flew back to her.

"I know we had a deal," he said, mimicking her very thought, "but I'd like to hang onto it for a while longer. Like a good luck charm."

She paused, hesitant and almost fearful. _He never would have said something like that back in the day. Has he really changed so much?_

_Can I afford to believe it?_

She smiled and dropped her hand. "Of course." _Guess I'll find out._

Zelgadis slid the bracelet into his pocket and leaned his back against the stone railing, propping his elbows on it while he just stared at her. His demeanor was one of scrutiny and calculation; she felt like she was being picked apart by his piercing blue eyes as she averted her own. Nervously, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

He cleared his throat. "I never realized how nice summer is in Seyruun," he attempted for the sake of making small talk, and was about to ramble on about something equally unimportant when she cut him off.

"It happened out there, at my mother's grave."

He was slightly taken aback at her abruptness and shift of topic, but she had always been straight and to the point in the past. At least he wouldn't have to go through the arduous task of crafting mindless conversation, and that suited him just fine.

He slowly turned to see where she was pointing; a spot almost miniscule to where they stood on the seventh floor of the castle, but he could still see a clearing in the woods, framed by emerald green trees and thatches of abundant flowers. A tall, shining monument stood atop a raised stone platform, encased by a thick rail that circled around its edge.

_Her mother's?_

He had never noticed this tribute to the late Crown Princess – the view from his guest suite only showed him the castle's courtyard and front gate. A frown creased his brow when he thought of Amelia, forever mourning the passing of her mother, adding insult to injury by being greeted every day with the view of this gravesite.

"It was maybe six months after we had banished Dark Star," her soft voice drifted through his musings, and he pulled his gaze away from the elegant memorial to rest on her face. "It was the anniversary of the day that she died. I went there to light some incense and say a few prayers."

He noticed how her hand had lifted to rest against her belly as she swayed slightly, eyes glossed over in a fashion that spoke of her trip into the past. He stayed silent the whole time, let her speak from the memories that she took herself back to.

Amelia drew in a deep breath, slowly rubbing small circles against the scar that lay just beneath her stained shirt. "I was so caught up in my own thoughts of her, that I almost didn't notice him coming. I _felt_ it though, just in time – that darkness, that utter malice that I feel whenever I come close to a Mazoku, it was lurking just behind me. I was alone, but I made the instant decision to fight him."

Already his mind was whirling. _She fought a Mazoku by herself? At that age?_

"I was shocked, and scared, but I felt the adrenaline rush through me at his nearness. I whipped around and fired an Elmekia Lance, and he stumbled away from me in pain."

She stopped suddenly, let a tiny smile grace her lips as she focused on his attentive features. "You taught me a lot about offensive fighting, Zelgadis-san," she complimented him, and his eyes widened. "You showed me how to be alert to what's around me, and not get so sidetracked by my own passions. It could have been a lot worse if it hadn't been for that wisdom."

"Er…glad I could help," he nodded slowly.

She bit her lip then and he saw hesitance flit through her azure eyes, a part of her unwilling to go on with her story. He was about to make a very impulsive gesture on his part that he would scold himself for later; he was a moment away from reaching for her hand to stroke it comfortingly when she smoothly turned away to walk over to the balcony's railing, staring up at the night sky that glittered with stars.

And then, very abruptly and before he had the chance to stop her, he watched as she hopped up onto the railing with the feline grace of a driven lioness.

"_Are you insane!?"_ he yelped and sprang forward, put his arms out on either side of her balancing form as a sort of safety net.

She glared down at him. "Please, I've done stunts like this my whole life! They've almost all ended well."

"Uhh…"

"Hush!" she snapped, and put one foot in front of the other on the wide slab of stone. "It's easier to talk about it this way, when I have something to concentrate on in the present." She huffed and took another tentative step, pleased with the steadiness that she somehow miraculously maintained. "He had a piece of cloth that wrapped around his head and hid his face from me, but I didn't think anything of it. His sorcery, however, was a match for mine, but still I had faith that the gods were on my side and I would win in the name of justice."

She executed a perfectly neat back walkover, oblivious to the man on the verge of having a heart attack right below her. "Victory!" she flashed her trademark V-sign in his face.

"Amelia, will you _please_ get down from there?" Zelgadis grunted, every muscle of his being painfully tense and on edge. Any other night he wouldn't have worried, but levitation wouldn't be able to save her if she was still too weak to cast it.

But she still whined, "I'm fine!" and pushed her long bangs away from her face in annoyance. "I started to get tired, but I could tell I was wearing him down too. And then I saw it – the perfect moment to cast a Ra Tilt. It was difficult, considering our surroundings and how I didn't wish to soil my mother's resting place, but the timing and his placement had been perfect. I hit him dead on, in perfect execution."

This was the part where she would normally declare her victory over her evil opponents, Zelgadis contemplated, but the look of anguish that crossed her face then tore that prediction of his apart. Her eyes glimmered with sadness as she stared out into the woods that stretched far below them.

"I let my guard down," she whispered. "I thought I had gotten him. But he suddenly shimmered back onto this plane, right in front of me…" once again, she pressed her palm into her abdomen, shook her head solemnly at the memory that her mind's eye so vividly replayed. "He ran his sword straight through me."

_G-Gods…_Stunned, Zelgadis soon found himself gritting his teeth, a familiar feeling of all-consuming fury beginning to crawl through his veins. _She was stabbed; an alone, unarmed, and unsuspecting girl. What coward would do something like that?_

She seemed to notice the angry feelings that were simmering within him, because she offered him a sad smile that did nothing to light up her eyes. "I wish that was all. I reached up to pull off his mask, I ripped that darn piece of cloth away, and what I saw behind it made me faint."

Zelgadis was all ears again as he waited for her elaboration, clenching and unclenching his fists to try to calm himself down.

She sighed, rubbed her hands over her face in a gesture that showed how weary she truly felt. "It was the same assassin, Zelgadis-san," she murmured into her palms. "The same man that killed my mother." The name that left her lips was said with venomous hatred, her fingers curled as if they were about to claw away the very skin on her face.

"Booley," she whispered murderously. The aura that radiated from the princess was one of rage and disgust, sorrow and hate – a mixture of several black emotions that rumbled below an expression she hid away from his view. He hated it. It wasn't her.

She lifted her head, stared at him with blank eyes that he wanted so desperately to spark with life again. But her retelling of the events just kept getting darker and darker. "I don't really remember what happened after that. I just remember waking up and feeling so disoriented. I had no idea where I was. It was dark, and I was so cold…"

He did not like where this was going.

"I lost track of time, but I must have been in there for hours. My body hurt so much, I couldn't move, I couldn't scream. It was so cramped, and I could barely breathe." He saw a faraway and slightly panicked look come into her eyes, noticed how her breath came a little quicker, how her hands began to tremble.

"I was sweating, I was crying, I didn't understand what was going on…I just didn't understand," she whimpered and snarled her fingers through her hair. "I was trapped and alone. I was in so much pain…"

"Stop," he interjected suddenly. He didn't want her to go on, didn't want to know and understand anymore. The curiosity was gnawing at him, but his worry was worse. She was breaking down right in front of him, and that pained him more than he would ever like to admit. He never wanted to see her like this. "It's okay. You don't need to say anymore."

"He buried me alive, right next to my mother."

Everything in him froze, including his heart.

_No. No, no, no…_

With everything finally out in the open, she seemed to snap back to reality. Her eyes slowly became more focused, her breath began to even out. Her arms dropped back down to her sides and she took a gulp of the fresh night air. Her hair blew freely in the breeze once more.

She was here in the castle, right outside of her bedroom, nowhere near any small space of confinement. She was safe. And now he knew everything. She was still shaking very slightly, but not frighteningly so. It was over. She had finally told the story to someone.

She took one more deep breath before staring apprehensively at the man below her. He wasn't moving, wasn't even looking at her. She bit her lip. Had she told him too much? Did he think she was weak now?

"Zelgadis-san?" she asked worriedly. "You're really pale. Are you okay?"

"No." It was the answer to both her question and the denial of her accident.

_Stabbed…buried alive…_

_Kill._

He didn't realize when he started shaking his head, subconsciously rejecting the tale that she had just laid out before him, the truth that he thought he had wanted to know. Unwanted images crept into his mind, visions of the terrified princess screaming and clawing against the lid of a box, several feet into the earth where she wouldn't be heard. He thought of the tears that must have streamed down her cheeks, of how much she probably squirmed and struggled and kicked and pounded.

_I had no idea._

"You…you broke out of it, right?" his voice wavered. It was an awful ordeal for anyone to go through, and he wanted to hunt down the thing that had done it to her, but it was not inescapable. There were a myriad of spells that she would have had in her arsenal to free herself from such an appalling confinement. Surely she had thought of something to break herself out of it once her fear had subsided…

"There was nothing I could do," she shattered his already weak hopes. "I couldn't even speak. My lips…" Her fingers traced the outline of her mouth. "He sewed them shut."

His blood ran cold. His heart was pounding, his own body tension making him nauseous. Trapped in a box six feet under, she couldn't even call out to anyone. She must have felt so scared and alone, must have doubted that anyone was coming to save her. And he knew she hated that more than anything. She hated to be the victim.

How long had she been down there, he wondered. Did she still cry? Did she slowly lose hope as the hours rolled by and the threat of suffocation came ever so closer? Did she give up and think that she was going to die down there, right next to her mother?

Did she pray for him to come find her?

_We are connected, whether I like it or not. If I had been here, I would have known…I would have felt her panic. I would have heard her screaming, even with her mouth sewn shut. I would have found her._

_And she knows it._

It all made sense now, why she hated him so much, why she was so reserved and secretive and bitter. Everything came crashing down around him in waves of shocked understanding. He wanted to scream, he wanted to punch the wall in frustration.

But more than that, he wanted to kill.

Zelgadis closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. "How did you get out?"

Amelia suppressed a tiny squeak of fear. It was that same control again, that same low tone that made her feel so uneasy. She turned to face him with a sort of urgency in her eyes. "It all ended okay, Zelgadis-san. Trevor-san figured it out and found me soon enough."

That did nothing to calm him, and he scowled. _Yes, good old Trevor-san. _

"And what happened to Booley?" _Kill._

She shrugged weakly. "Never saw him again. I asked Sylphiel-san to help me cast a protection spell around the castle grounds. We haven't had any disturbances since then."

"I see."

_It should've been me. I should've been the one to pull her out of that grave. It should've been me._

"Zelgadis-san…?"

_All my strength, all my training…was this the cost? Was it worth it?_

"I'm sorry," he blurted, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. "It happened because I wasn't here. That's why you're so upset with me, because if I had followed through with my promise to return after finding my cure…I would have been here to help you. I understand now, Amelia, and I'm sorry."

She was expecting to feel anger, satisfaction, maybe even a hint of vengeance. He finally felt the magnitude of his decisions, the consequences of his actions. She had mourned his absence in her life for three years, was infuriated when he told her that he had found his cure long ago and yet still stayed away for some other selfish reason. She wanted to feel fulfilled at his apology because she thought he deserved to feel remorseful. She had wanted that all along.

But instead, she only felt guilt and compassion of her own, and it made her very anxious and uncertain.

_Because this isn't right,_ she cried inside. _I can't blame him for what happened. He didn't know what was going on. I just wanted him here…_

"It's not your fault," she said to him softly, but firmly. "I wish you had been here with me, but it's not your fault. I never thought it was. I was just alone, and upset. You hurt me, Zelgadis-san, but enough is enough. I'm so tired…"

He sighed, moved over to the railing to rest his elbows just by her feet. "I can't change the past, Amelia. I wish I could, believe me, but I just want it to be over now. I want us to get past this. You're still my friend, and I don't want to fight you anymore. I just want to protect you." He glanced up at her hesitantly. "If you'll let me, now."

"Protect me?" she echoed. She turned away from him, closed her eyes and relished in the breeze that tickled her face. They were bouncing between dark topics, but she knew it all had to come out sooner or later. They were above and beyond sugarcoating things. "I guess we've got another player in town, then?"

She felt his surprise even with her eyes closed. "I'm not stupid, Zelgadis-san. I can feel it too. Is that why you're here?"

He didn't quite know what to say to that, too shocked by how quickly she had picked up on his motives. He was expecting a long conversation of explaining and convincing, and retellings of his awful nightmares that he sorely did not want to convey to her. But it seemed that the princess, sharp as she was, had already figured some of it out.

"Yes," he answered her. "But I don't know much about it."

"It's okay," she hung her head. "I've felt it for a while now. There's this darkness inside of me, every ounce of anguish that I've felt ever since my mother's death just snowballing into something dreadful. And something out there is pulling at it." She fisted a small hand against her chest, right over her heart. "I can _feel _it."

She slowly turned her gaze to stare down at him, and a few tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. "I'm scared," she quietly admitted to him, and his heart ached in response.

"We have defeated dark lord after dark lord," he said to her, his voice clear and strong, unwavering. "Whatever this thing is, we are going to kill it, Amelia."

She made a small noise in the back of her throat, attempted a tiny smile while she fully turned to face him. "Now that you're here?"

He smirked back up at her. "Exactly."

Not much was left to say after that. With a final roll of her shoulders, Amelia bent over and rested her hands on his shoulders, and he instinctively reached up to put his hands on her waist to help her hop down from the railing.

"Well, you have to admit that it's pretty good timing at least," she timidly offered as he gently placed her down on the marble balcony floor. "Lina-san's party is only two days away. Everyone will be here, together again."

Crap. He had forgotten all about the fiery sorceress. But Amelia had a point – the rest of their party was irreplaceable. Their help would most certainly be needed.

"We'll dive off that bridge when we come to it," he grumbled and gently pushed Amelia back into her room. "Until then, rest up. You're going to need it."

- -

_I am nobody here. I am not fit to bear the title of Crown Princess, and I just know that deep down inside, Father agrees. I cannot handle the pressure anymore. I must leave._

_Don't forget me._

_Gracia_

He crumpled the old letter into his fist, eyes darkening to the deepest black. He knew every word by heart, but still he insisted on torturing himself night after night, reliving the pain from that day so long ago.

He would get her back, no matter what.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Slayers.


	8. To Us

**Author's Notes:** Hey, put that rotten fruit away! No need to start throwing things! I understand it has been a very long time, not to mention I LIED last chapter by saying that this installment would be action packed. Yeah...it's not. I'm terribly, terribly sorry. But I swear there will be a major fight next chapter! I just wanted to give our main characters the proper reunion that they rightfully deserve. Hopefully, I pinned it down with accuracy.

I'll also come clean and say that I'm not terribly good when it comes to writing any kind of action scene...I'm a drama kind of a girl. I prefer to explore the angst. So yes, maybe I'm stalling just a wee little bit and finding new scenes to throw into a chapter to avoid writing out the upcoming fight. All you other writers out there, you understand...right?

*crickets chirping*

Very funny. Anyway, onward with the story! And just a mild warning, there are a few bad, four letter words thrown in here. Somehow, I picture Lina and Martina being a bit...vulgar with the language, if not for the censor barrier put in place by production companies. So just a heads up.

**Summary:** After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
**'to us'

_Please don't be afraid when the darkness fades away  
The dawn will break the silence screaming in our hearts_

Evanescence

- -

The day after he and Amelia had cleared the air of all their unresolved issues, Zelgadis was absolutely merciless with his training. He was naturally quite hard on himself when it came to his sword drills – direct, focused, and with no cut-off point in sight; that was his approach. It was the way that Luo had groomed him to be; never was Zelgadis in danger of letting his progress get to his head thanks to his instructor's strict code of ethics. But a wild fury had poisoned his mood that day and he pushed himself even harder, embraced the adrenaline that his untamed rage funneled through his veins. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was unhealthy, that this kind of anger-fueled drive was more of a plague than anything noble.

But with everything that Amelia had revealed to him, after seeing her so vulnerable and hearing her declare her fear over the coming danger on the horizon, he found it very difficult to leave the old and dusty training room. His sanity couldn't afford for him to stop – too many questions and theories cluttered his brain if he wasn't focused on the intensity of his drills; such as, how had Booley been revived as a Mazoku? Did it have anything to do with the rising evil that was targeting Amelia? And what about the cloaked stranger he had encountered on his way to Seyruun? Were they possibly all connected somehow? Maybe the stranger _was_ Booley. But then why had he seemed so familiar?

The possibilities went on and on in his head, but quickly dispersed with the first flick of his sword, leaving only the anger behind. He hadn't meant to spend most of the day swinging his sword around in an effort to channel his teeming ire, and was rather shocked when he'd finally emerged and discovered that six hours had passed during that one session alone. It was like he was a beginner again, back under Luo's ruthless instruction and working his way up from the bottom of worthless sword-waving nobodies.

He took it easy the next day, spending only one hour in training and leaving it at that, partly because his muscles still ached and screamed at him, and even moreso because it was the day of Lina's party. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the festivity, but a friendship with Amelia had finally been established again and it was still a little too strained for him to directly disobey her request that he attend.

Still his mood was dark from the horror of her personal account, and without his sword to turn to, Zelgadis found himself in a place he knew he had no right to trespass upon but felt compelled to anyway.

Princess Alana's memorial stood tall and proud, its surface glossy beneath the late morning sunshine. It was a beautiful space situated within a grove of thriving trees, perfectly green and manicured with splashes of color from the flowers that bordered the circular area. A shiny metal plaque displayed her full name in fancily carved letters, with a touching saying written beneath.

_Seyruun's star of hope.  
May you shine down and smile upon us from the heavens above.  
_

Zelgadis wasn't familiar with what Seyruun had been like while Princess Alana was there to rule alongside Philionel, but having her own gravesite built within such a lovely setting instead of being buried in the royal cemetery with other previous rulers was evidence enough of how the citizens idolized her. She must have been a glorious icon of hope and purity for her people to love and trust so completely.

However, Zelgadis wasn't there to pay homage to the late princess. He slowly strolled around the edge of the area with a hardened gaze, aquamarine irises taking in every inch of his surroundings, shoulders tensed and muscles coiled as tight as a spring. There were certain details that could easily be missed by any common observer: a few nicks in the railing that encircled the memorial; a couple of trees with blotches of blackened bark; a patch of dirt that no flowers seemed to be able to grow from. All were pieces of a sad and torturous tale occurring on a night long ago, yet still so fresh in the mind of its victim.

Zelgadis climbed the few small steps onto the platform of the memorial, Amelia's loaded words filling his head as he tried to follow her story again.

"_It was lurking just behind me. I was alone, but I made the instant decision to fight him."_

He turned around, envisioned the monster standing where she had declared him to be. It wasn't difficult; the vivid image seemed to float freely into his mind. He pictured a tall and thin man with slitted black eyes and disgustingly translucent pale skin that stretched tautly over a web of bulging veins. It was a sickly sight indeed, and one that he could do without. Zelgadis raised his hands in front of him as her words continued to drift through his thoughts.

"_I whipped around and fired an Elmekia Lance, and he stumbled away from me in pain."_

He didn't cast the spell, but followed the line of would-be fire to the thatch of trees that stood straight across from him. His fingers traced the deformed scorch marks that marred several areas of rich brown bark, marveling at how even after two years, the damage was still so visible. But as a sorcerer himself, Zelgadis knew that the land did not recover so easily from magical abuse, suffering far more than anything done by manpower alone. Nature couldn't heal easily from the forces that defied it; it was one of the more severe consequences of using magic.

"_His sorcery, however, was a match for mine, but still I had faith that the gods were on my side and I would win in the name of justice." _

He slowly made his way back to the foot of the steps, ran the rough pads of his fingertips along the several nicks that chipped and blemished the railing.

"_I started to get tired, but I could tell I was wearing him down too. And then I saw it – the perfect moment to cast a Ra Tilt...I hit him dead on, in perfect execution."_

The patch of flower-less dirt would explain that, and he noticed that the trees surrounding it also held scars of charred and dead bark. Judging from this observation, he figured she had fired off the spell from where he was positioned now; any closer would have put her in danger of the burst as well.

"_I let my guard down...I thought I had gotten him. But he suddenly shimmered back onto this plane, right in front of me...he ran his sword straight through me."_

The hand that had previously been dancing along the railing in tender and thoughtful strokes suddenly gripped it in ferocity as his other palm flew straight to his own abdomen. He growled, clutched the rail until his knuckles paled into a sickly white. _Booley. Kill._

Somewhere in the back of his mind was an insistent reminder that the worse was yet to come, but already his dark and vengeful side was threatening to push him over the edge. He forced himself into gulping down several mouthfuls of fresh air to calm his roiling anger, realizing he would need the stability to process what Amelia said had happened next.

"_I don't really remember what happened after that. I just remember waking up and feeling so disoriented. I had no idea where I was. It was dark, and I was so cold…"_

With a sudden flare of focus and determination, he roughly shoved himself off of the railing and away from the steps, circling the area again in long and slow strides. Where Amelia was buried would be harder to find; unlike the other pieces of evidence, her grave had been dug without any use of magic, and the ground had therefore healed long ago. He closed his eyes and honed his senses like Luo had taught him, focused on the memory of her panicked words ringing in his ears.

"_My body hurt so much, I couldn't move, I couldn't scream. It was so cramped, and I could barely breathe."_

He felt her fear, her panic. His heart throbbed with pain for her. _Come on, _he pleaded. _Give me more._

"_I was sweating, I was crying, I didn't understand what was going on…I just didn't understand."_

_There. _He could have imagined it; a tiny tap against his senses, a small thread of darkness that his mind eagerly sought to latch onto. But the more he focused on it, the easier it became for him to grasp. He stepped forward into the center of the clearing, eyes still closed so that he only had his instincts to guide him.

"_I was trapped and alone. I was in so much pain..."_

_Keep going, _his thoughts desperately wailed. _Almost got it._

"_He buried me alive, right next to my mother."_

_Gotcha. _Zelgadis opened his eyes, the ground beneath his feet being the first thing he saw. He knelt down upon the blades of lush green grass, laid his palms flat against the earth. It was mind-blowing for him – to know that more than two years ago, the princess was in this exact spot, buried several feet underground. The wound in his heart pulsed with sorrow.

And then the shame settled in.

He had found her burial site with only a tiny thread of Booley's dark energy still present in the tranquil air of a sunny Seyruun day. If he had been there two and a half years ago, with an abundance of his evil aura to track in addition to Amelia's own pure and frightened spirit, perhaps he would have been the one to save her then instead of that haughty general.

Jealousy splashed in the pit of his stomach, and he flung himself onto his back to gaze at the fluffy white clouds that rolled across a perfect blue sky. He couldn't do anything about the past, but his mental reenactment of her life-changing encounter somehow made him feel closer to her, helped him to understand every emotion she must have felt on that fateful night. The shock, the righteous anger, the sheer terror, the threat of being suffocated...

His fingers curled around handfuls of innocent grass. No, he couldn't do anything about the past. It was the present that mattered, and he would be damn sure to protect her this time.

- -

"Zelgadis-san?"

Amelia knocked quietly on his door – a somewhat difficult feat to accomplish with the weight of a garment bag draped over one arm and a thermos of steaming hot coffee held in the opposite hand. She stood awkwardly with both items hampering the movement of her limbs, waiting for him to answer, and grew a little frustrated when she heard no footsteps approaching the door to let her in.

"Zelgadis-san?" she called again, rapped her knuckles against the door a couple more times. A frown tugged her lips downward and she reached for the handle with only a bit of struggle, and gently turned it and pushed open the door.

She poked her head in cautiously. "Hello?"

Silence.

_Huh...I guess he's not here. _She stepped into his room, immediately heading for his bed. A mental scolding was already taking possession of her thoughts. _He better not be training again after that long session yesterday! Honestly, what could have driven that man to work so hard, I can't even imagine..._

She clucked her tongue in disapproval as she set the thermos down on the small bedside table. She usually had one of her servants do this task, but after their talk the other night, she felt that she owed it to him to personally deliver these necessities. She only hoped he would approve of the suit...

_I doubt he has anything suitable to wear to Lina-san's party anyway, _she reminded herself with a determined nod as she laid the garment bag across his downy bedspread. _Yes, I am completely justified in providing him with an acceptable outfit. That happens to be specially tailored for him. With a vest and tie to match my dress._

She cringed at that last thought. _Ugh, I'm doing it again, aren't I? Get a hold of yourself, Amelia! It's not all rainbows and roses yet!_

Perhaps she had gone a little overboard with the matching outfits, but it was too late to switch the colors of his suit. She, however, had a plethora of dresses to choose from, an entire arsenal of lace and silk, satin and chiffon. The little cream colored ensemble would have to go back on the rack for now; she was in the mood for something darker anyway. Perhaps a deep blue..

She sighed. This was no time to be fretting over such trivial matters. Right now she had a party to plan and decorations to assist with, and she had already received news that Lina and Gourry were spotted in town at a local dress shop. Yes, she had to hurry and move things along with the preparations; it would be quite embarrassing if the guest of honor were to arrive before everything was in its place.

And then maybe, after that, she would allow herself to worry over the threatening evil coming her way.

But not today.

With a renewed sense of purpose blooming in her heart, Amelia gave herself a firm nod and left.

- -

Curtains of emerald green silk swiveled around her legs as she twirled, pieces of the luscious fabric pinched daintily between her fingers on either side of her as she giggled dreamily in front of the mirror. She loved how the dress shimmered and swayed, how a strategically placed slit occasionally gave glimpses to her slender legs encased within, how beautifully the deep green color offset her delicate, milky white skin.

It was also very complementing for anyone with red hair.

Lina released an airy and girlish laugh as she spun around again, and Gourry could've sworn that he saw actual stars in her eyes. "This is the one, Gourry, I'm sure of it," she sighed and bit her bottom lip, basking in all her bliss.

Gourry wished he could say the same for himself. "Finally," the swordsman mumbled wearily and stood, casually rubbed his sore backside. "Man, I've been sitting here so long waiting for you, my butt fell asleep…"

"Oh Jellyfish, this is something you'll never understand." She gathered her long hair into one hand and held it high away from her neck to admire the beaded halter design of the gown. "It's hard to find a dress that can match the exotic beauty that I possess." A look of shock suddenly crossed her face and she gasped.

Suddenly alert and with all soreness forgotten, Gourry rushed to her side, his worry overcoming his previous discomfort. "What is it, Lina? Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

"It all makes sense to me, now." Tears started to form in her eyes. "This...it what it means to be cursed with true beauty!"

He groaned. "Oh, brother. Will you knock it off, already?"

Rolling his eyes, he went back to his seat, mentally berating himself for falling for yet another one of her silly charades. Gourry knew he wasn't the sharpest tool in the chandelier, but after traveling with the little spitfire for six years, one would think he would've learned all of her tricks by now. It often angered him when he realized how easily it still was for her to dupe him so effortlessly.

But then she giggled and sent him a wide, dazzling smile over her shoulder with nothing but sincerity in her eyes, and his anger suddenly melted into mush. Despite his best interests to sit there and sulk, he couldn't stop an affectionate smile of his own from creeping into his expression. _That,_ he reminded himself. _That's why she's got me._

She might have been a manipulative troublemaker, but beneath that was something beautiful and precious, the core of her being that shone through her eyes in these soul-baring glances she sometimes graced him with. And so he would always fall for her tricks, because she was his to protect. She was his purpose in life.

He must have been staring for a little too long, because her cheeks grew slightly pink and she dropped her gaze to the floor in a sudden bout of uncharacteristic shyness. "Do you like it?" she asked him innocently, and his smile grew wider. If only the crooked side of the world's population could see Lina Inverse, the Dragoon Spooker, looking so feminine and bashful. No thug or bandit would fear her.

"You look beautiful," he answered honestly, and she ducked her head and giggled.

It was a sweet moment between them, but of course, those never lasted for too long.

"...But is it supposed to be that baggy in the front?" He squinted and pointed at her chest.

Her body went rigid. Face reddening, she quickly turned and stomped over to him, connecting a fist to his jaw in one quick motion.

"_Ow!" _he howled, his head thrown back in white-hot pain. "What'd you do that for!?"

"For being a jerk!"

"You're the jerk!"

Indeed, the moment was gone. Oh well, he thought to himself as he rubbed his sore jaw. Hopefully he would be able to see that side of her again later on in the night, within the privacy of his guest chambers...

She turned away from him and hiked up her skirt. "I'm going to go change," she growled and started for the dressing room. "When I come out, this dress better be bought and paid for!" It was a useless threat, she knew. He had offered to buy it for her anyway as her birthday gift. But still, she had felt the need to say something menacing.

Lina slammed the curtain shut behind her, tuned out the incredulous sputtering of her companion and smugly tossed her hair behind her shoulder. Yes, that would teach him.

Her clothes were where she had left them, folded neatly to her right on the bench that wrapped around the perimeter of the room. She had picked the furthest corner for its lack of light; other women were situated in the room, laughing jovially with each other as they tried on various dresses for inspection and approval. Lina wasn't exactly shy, but she took pride in her ladylike modesty. Her goodies weren't there for everyone to see.

Still fuming over Gourry's comment, she stalked over to her claimed corner and jerkingly untied the knot behind her neck, just as one of the women raised her voice in the midst of the story she was telling.

"It happened over at Harry's; you know, that little hole in the wall right on the edge of the city, in the travelers district? The guy was just sitting there, drinking his coffee and minding his own business, when that woman came over and gave him a big fat smooch. Right on the lips!"

"No way," another one gasped, and Lina rolled her eyes. What simpering morons. Didn't they have anything better to gab about? The gown rippled down her slender body into a delicate pile at her feet, and she reached for her tunic.

"What did he do? Come on, come on…tell us!"

_Yes, tell us,_ she mockingly mouthed to the wall in front of her.

"Poor thing, he seemed just as surprised as I was. It was like he didn't even know her at all! And then she just…got up and walked away. It was so very odd."

_So very odd._ Her snickering was conveniently silenced by the rough material of her tunic as she dragged it over her head. Yet she couldn't help the furrowing of her own brow as she slipped her arms through the sleeves. Random makeout sessions _were_ a little out of place in the justice serving, moral preaching, holier-than-though, pinnacle of white magic kingdom that was Seyruun. Had citizens here gotten a little kinkier since her last visit? Maybe she could actually stand to stick around a little longer if that were the case.

"What did she look like? Anyone we know?"

"Well...to tell the truth, it happened to fast that I didn't even get a really good look. Tall, long black hair..."

_Huh?_

"And an awful laugh..."

_Oi! _In the midst of putting on her leggings, Lina lost her balance and tripped, crashing to the very hard floor below her. The gaggle of women looked over at her in surprise, and despite her derogatory thoughts of them earlier, they immediately rushed over with hands outstretched in offered help.

"Oh dear, are you alright?"

"That looked like one nasty fall..."

"Can you stand?"

"Shall I fetch that handsome swordsman for you?"

_Ahh! _Feeling more than a little claustrophobic, she scrambled to her feet, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment as she laughed sheepishly. "Oh, I'm okay! I'm okay!" She glanced nervously between their worried faces, bit her own lip in apprehension. "Um...thank you for your concern. I'll just be going now..."

She hastily gathered her dress and clutched it to her chest, backing away from the group as the women looked uncertainly at each other and then at her. But she had already reached the curtain and was quick to slide it open and slip through, desperately pulling the cloth barrier shut between them.

"Phew," she verbally exhaled, then rapped her knuckles against her own skull. _I just made a complete IDIOT of myself for no reason. It wouldn't be her. It couldn't. Duh, Lina. Duh._

"Can we go now?"

Lina spun around, her swordsman standing there and tapping his foot impatiently. "I already paid," he plainly told her, and she was back to smiling again. "So, can we go now? We can't be late for your own party."

She bounced toward him. "Yes. Please."

- -

Once again the ballroom was thrown into a collage of colorful decorations, adorned in silk tapestries and shimmery streamers. A dazzling spread of silver and gold balloons littered the high ceiling, with the occasional red thrown in for a touch of drama. There was an abundance of round tables scattered beyond the dance floor, dressed in finely crafted scarlet tablecloths with delicate gold embroidering weaving intricate designs, and perched on top of every table was a fresh bouquet of white roses, artfully arranged within a sparkling crystal vase.

More importantly, the buffet table was set up on the left side of the room near the grand staircase, and Amelia had requested for another extension to be added on to hold more food for her companions' bottomless stomachs. She also had several waiters standing by to keep an eye on the diverse spread of delicious food, only to keep it stocked at all times. She felt a little guilty, knowing how much running back-and-forth they would have to endure, so she had already set aside a bonus to give them in addition to their usual earnings. She liked to treat her people well; if they were happy, she was happy.

Unless, of course, she was forced into dull conversations with aggravating nobles that seemed to only talk about themselves. Nothing about that made her happy at all.

"Amelia!"

The princess eagerly looked away from the duke – earl – baron? Well, _some _man who was talking to her, and she felt an immense wave of relief when she spotted Martina and Sylphiel motioning for her to join them. Her excitement was nearly palpable at the sight of her two old companions, and she grinned back at them before turning her attention to the nobleman once more.

She tried to look regretful as she graced him with a polite curtsy. "It was lovely chatting with you, but it seems that the Queen of Zoana wishes to speak with me." When it doubt, throwing out royal titles usually provided the escape desired. She took her leave without waiting for his reply, tuning out the annoyed mumbles that escaped his mouth at her abrupt departure.

She was smiling genuinely again by the time she reached the pair of opposite personalities. "Good evening, Martina-san, Sylphiel-san!" She warmly embraced them both. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"Oh yes, wouldn't want to miss Lina's birthday," Martina dryly commented with a roll of her eyes. Always stunned by her bluntness, Amelia didn't have time to reply before the queen nodded curtly to the nobleman that Amelia had parted with. "And who is that goof?"

"Him? Well, you see...he's a...my father knows him from..." She trailed off and bit her lip in embarrassment.

"Yeah, yeah..." Martina smirked and gently swatted Amelia's shoulder. "I've been there before."

"I suppose I wasn't really listening," she admitted with a sheepish smile.

"Who could blame you? Maybe someone should tell him to take that giant pole out of his--"

"Martina-san!" Sylphiel interrupted, her shock at the queen's choice of words very apparent in her stressed tone. "You really shouldn't say such things, considering our setting."

Martina scoffed. "Oh, please! This is Lina's _birthday party_, not some gala dedicated to her Highness, here. Although one might think that were the case, judging by your selection of guests. Really, Amelia, who _are_ some of these people?"

Focusing on maintaining a pleasant facial expression, Amelia answered with her usual politeness. "Oh, it's just one of Daddy's rules. For every social gathering held here, we must invite possible suitors as well." She shrugged helplessly, but kept smiling. "Even for Lina-san's birthday."

"Hey, I was married at your age."

"To the man of your dreams," Sylphiel quietly reminded her. Martina shut up at that.

After a few moments of shifting and awkward silence, the cleric decided on a change of subject. "Oh, I meant to congratulate you on your accomplishment the other day, Amelia-san. The man you healed who had been bit by one of those dreadful spiders."

"Please, it really wasn't that big of a deal..."

"Of course it was! I almost couldn't believe it. You did something that...well, in my book, is impossible. You really are someone special, Amelia-san." Inside, she struggled with the urge to tell the princess what the consequence of her actions had been, how Seyruun's protective barrier had been drastically weakened and Sylphiel had to spend several hours working with an unknown and very frightening woman to rebuild it. But the strange woman's warning still haunted her thoughts.

_"Telling her will just make her feel guilty and bring up bad memories for her. You better not put her through that kind of stress, Sylphiel. You better not."_

Sylphiel had a feeling that she wasn't one to be disobeyed._  
_  
"Well, thank you...I had some help, though." Amelia smiled shyly as a light blush dusted her cheeks. She still hadn't seen Zelgadis since the other night; she had been so busy with the party preparations and getting her own self ready that she hadn't even found the time to greet Lina and Gourry when they'd arrived. She hoped he would at least make an appearance; not everything between Zelgadis and herself had been resolved, but at least they were in the process of working it out. Now they only had to improve upon that.

And maybe fight a dark lord in the process.

Unfortunately, Martina noticed her blushing smile before it slipped away into troubled thoughts, and Amelia was ripped away from such musings altogether when she found the queen's finger just inches away from her nose.

"Aha!" Martina continued to point at her in accusing manner. "He's here, isn't he?"

Amelia blinked a few times before struggling to reply. "Um, I don't understand who you mean..."

"Oh no, don't play coy with me. There's only one man in this world who's gotten you to smile like that, and we all know damn well who that is."

Sylphiel squeaked at her crude use of language – how a queen got by with such horrid verbal manners was beyond her – but she wisely chose not to comment on it when Martina shot her a scathing glare. Instead, she directed the group's attention to the entrance, where a certain power-couple had just made their appearance.

"You should probably greet the birthday girl first, no?" She discretely winked at Amelia, and Amelia smiled thankfully back at her, evidently relieved to not have to continue the conversation further.

A new excitement burst through Amelia's veins, and gathering two fistfuls of her gown, she hiked her skirt up and practically ran over to where her best friend stood with her faithful bodyguard. "Lina-san!" It was a struggle to resist the natural habit of tackling the redhead in all her enthusiasm, but she managed to skid to a halt just in front of the pair with a wide grin stretched across her features.

"Hey, Amelia!" Lina opened her arms and Amelia fell into them in a friendly greeting as they hugged each other tightly. After a few seconds, Lina pulled away to hold her at arms length. "Look at you, all dressed up for me. I didn't know you cared so much..."

"Me? Look at you! Did you get that dress from Tessie's? Or maybe Bella's, she does a wonderful job, too..."

"Wrong and wrong. I found this little number at Clara's. Isn't it gorgeous?"

"Absolutely! I'll have to bring her in sometime, see if she can make something for me..."

Gourry cleared his throat beside them, a playfully stern look aimed down at the princess as she finally seemed to acknowledge his presence "Sure, just forget about the dumb swordsman...I get it, I'm no big deal..."

Amelia laughed and threw herself against the tall blonde's chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her up with incredible ease and spun her around once in return. "Gourry-san, you know I'm ecstatic to see you too. Gosh, I'm just so happy everyone made it, really I am."

"Everyone?" Lina raised an eyebrow, head tilted to one side in quiet contemplation.

"That's right. _Everyone_," Amelia responded, that last word purposefully loaded with meaning. She knew she wouldn't have to say more than that for Lina to get it; unlike Martina, who wanted every detail explained to her in even more detail, Lina was different. Lina, always wiser and more perceptive than Amelia could ever hope to be, would understand.

"Good," the sorceress nodded. _At least, I think so. _"And how did you manage that?" _How the hell did you get Zel to come to a birthday party, of all things?_

"It wasn't my doing," Amelia replied truthfully. "He came to me." _We'll have to talk about his reasons later..._

"I see." _Definitely something fishy there._ "And how is that coming along?" _Is he still being a jerk?_

Amelia shrugged a shoulder. "It's okay," she told her with a gentle voice. _It's not completely okay, but we're getting there. _"Still needs work, but it's better than what it was. What it has been..." _I'm still hurting...a lot. But what can I do? We had to put it behind us eventually._

Lina offered her a tentative smile. "I understand." _But if he tries something like that again, I'll fucking kill him myself._

And just like that, the conversation was over. Only a few sentences had been spoken, yet an entire dialogue had been shared between them, and nothing went misunderstood.

It all had gone over Gourry's head, of course, but he didn't mind. When it seemed like their conversation had come to an end and an ensuing silence hung between them, he clapped his hands together loudly. "Well, I don't know about you girls, but I'm hungry! Lina, let's grab some food!"

Lina was in full compliance of this idea. "Now you're talking! Come on Amelia, take us to the grub."

"Certainly! Right this way..."

They spent the next hour eating and socializing, with Lina and Gourry catching up with old comrades while Amelia had to make her rounds as the host of the event. As much as she wanted to be the in the company of her friends for the entire night, she had her duties that she was just too responsible to abandon. Still, she couldn't help the occasional glance toward the entrance for a certain guest that had yet to arrive, and her heart grew a little heavier as time passed by in a whir of laughter, music, and dancing.

_Maybe he's not coming, _she thought glumly. _Maybe he still hates these things as much as he used to._

She finally made her way back to the buffet table and met up with the couple, who had decided on going back for their fifth servings. "Are you having fun?" she grinned at Lina.

"Yeah, except that Martina doesn't know when to shut the hell up. Man, I just wanna _strangle_ her sometimes."

Amelia giggled. "Come on, she isn't that bad."

"Not that bad!? Are you kidding?" Lina sputtered. "All she does is wave around that damn rock on her finger and talk down to me like I'm one of her freaking handmaidens. Well let me tell you something, I am _this close_ from throwing a damn Fireball in that overly made-up face of hers--"

"Wow! Is that Zelgadis?" Gourry interrupted her, eyebrows raised in shock as he turned to Lina and hurriedly nudged her. "Look, Lina! It's Zelgadis!"

_Huh? _Her anger momentarily forgotten, Lina whipped around, fervently glancing around for the man in question. "Where, Gourry? I don't see him," she huffed in annoyance.

"Right there! At the entrance!"

"Wha..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened from the sight of the man that had just stepped through the grandiose double doors, his own gaze raking through the crowd of nobles that milled about the ballroom. She had quickly passed him over at first glance because, duh, he was _human._ He was certainly a sight for sore eyes, though – tall, dark and handsome, and clothed in a finely tailored black suit with cream colored accessories. But the fact still remained that he was _human_, so what in the 'verse was Gourry going on about?

Perhaps it was Amelia's quiet cough that got through to her, or maybe it was the realization that the man's hair, though soft and rich brown in colour, was still styled the same way it had been for the three years she'd known and journeyed with him, or possibly because his posture was so familiar in its strong and majestic stature; either way, reality came crashing down on Lina in waves of shock and understanding when his eyes met with hers, and she gasped.

"_No shit!_"

Mouth hanging open, she swung her gaze back to the princess. _You forgot to tell me he was HUMAN, Amelia!_

Amelia lifted her hands in helpless surrender, a chuckle threatening to break loose from her smiling lips. _Sorry, I knew I was forgetting something..._

Quickly regaining her composure, Lina flashed a dazzling grin at the ex-chimera as he approached them in confident strides, and launched herself at him in a fierce embrace. "Zel! It's good to see you! And human, no less!"

Zelgadis returned the hug, quietly laughing into the sorceress's her head, he stared into the sapphire depths of the woman that stood a few feet away from them, and he tipped his head toward her in a quiet hello. "That does seem to be a major topic of discussion around here."

He was roughly pushed away and then slapped half-heartedly across his arm. "Hey! This night is about me, so don't you dare go thinking otherwise!"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." Lina smiled again, fisting her hands on her slim hips. "We were really worried about you, you know. I haven't heard from you at all since Dark Star. I guess you were pretty occupied with your search, huh?"

Something about her question was unnatural, maybe said a little too offhandedly, as if she already knew where he had been and was fishing for him to slip up and give her a reason to strike him down. She was too perceptive for her own good. He visibly grimaced, not wanting to be put in this position yet again – not after what he had gone through with Amelia to get her back.

A gentle hand was laid upon his arm then, and he found himself staring into the princess's warm oceanic eyes, even moreso brought out by the royal blue gown she had dressed herself in for the night. Her hair was curled around her face in a series of ebony ringlets that brushed against her bare shoulders, and pearls hung from her ears and neck to match the sapphire encrusted pearl tiara that crowned her head.

For a moment, he was thrown off guard by how grown up she looked – and undeniably beautiful. Always quick to recover though, he cleared his throat and gave her his classic, nonchalant smirk. "Sorry I'm late. I'm not used to wearing these monkey suits..."

She was biting her lip in an obvious effort to contain her demure laughter. "Maybe it's time for a drink," she recommended to the group. She motioned to a waiter patrolling around the room, and he eagerly approached them with a platter carrying several wine glasses. Gourry and Zelgadis each grabbed a glass of red wine, while Amelia and Lina opted for white.

Lina cleared her throat before anyone took a sip.

"Well, inspired by Zel's appearance here at an event thrown in _my_ honor, I'd like to make a toast!" she declared, her glass already raised. The others followed suit, glancing at each other in quiet uncertainty, unsure of what to expect. But Lina, forever the sarcastic joker, seemed to have been struck by a moment of sentimentality.

"To us, the original, fab four; of whom every journey and quest has stemmed from, the core of our team, and the heart of our travels."

Their glasses clinked, and they all drank.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Slayers.


	9. Overthrow

**Author's Notes:** This was, by far, the hardest piece of written material that I have ever...well, written (sorry, my brain is a bit fried and I can't come up with anything wittier). I am not good with action scenes. Like, at all. But I tried very hard to balance the actions of the 6-8 individuals that will be involved, and I hope you all will be pleased with it.

And if you are pleased, or even have a complaint that you wish to voice, then please do. I hate begging for reviews – I think it's a bit pathetic, honestly – but receiving only two for my last chapter (out of fifty-seven visitors) was quite discouraging, and made me feel even more pathetic. I write with my readers in mind, and I cater to what I think you want to see happen. So please just take a minute to let me know what your thoughts are on the story and how I'm doing. It means the world to me, I kid you not. :)

**Summary:** After living in seclusion for nearly three years, the only thing that Zelgadis wants is to continue his life in such solitude. But the nightmares that have been plaguing him for months became too painful to ignore, and he finds himself traveling the familiar path to Seyruun once again...

* * *

**Chapter Eight**  
'overthrow'

_Good morning day, sorry I'm not there  
All my favorite friends vanished in the air_

Three Days Grace

- -

"_But it's heavy!" Her lower lip trembled with panic as she let the tip of the sword clang noisily against the stone floor._

_Trevor smiled warmly at the eleven-year-old, kneeling down to adjust her grip on the weapon's hilt. "Princess, you can't expect to fend off villains with your old wooden sword, now can you?" he chided, though his eyes were kind and playful._

_Amelia blushed and looked away. "A true heroine can fight villains with her own magical powers!"_

_Such innocence and naivety were refreshing for a seasoned soldier of his experience to look upon, and for a moment he felt guilty. He had fought to protect her generation from the gruesome aspects of war, slain hundreds of men for his dream of peace, and yet he had been tasked with passing down the art of the sword to a child. He was marking a blemish upon her purity._

_And he had already tarnished one sister._

_He placed a callused hand on her shoulder, his goal now to alleviate her worry. "Well of course she can! But this type of training is also important. What would you do if you were trapped in an anti-magic barrier?"_

_She grinned impishly, eyes wide in excitement. "I'd use my powers to break out of the barrier!"_

_He bit back his laughter. "It doesn't quite work that way, highness." He ignored the sorrow that __pricked at his mind as he pointed toward the tall, slender teenager on the other side of the training room. "See how well Gracia is doing? You'll be just like her one day."_

_His beautiful, tarnished creation. Her movements contained a high level of elegance and refinery as she carried out her exercises, her inner grace pouring into every step and swing of her sword. She struck a final pose of the particular exercise she was performing, and when her soulful eyes met his, he hurriedly looked away._

"_I still don't know how she does it," the nine-year-old admitted, oblivious to the exchange. "I would never have pictured her with a weapon." She looked down at the sword she held in her own tiny hands and sighed._

"_Or myself, for that matter."_

- -

In a throne made of black, crackling energy, he sat stoically still, his long fingers thrumming rhythmically against one armrest. His obsidian gaze drilled thoughtfully into his soldier kneeling before him, one head cocked in quiet speculation. At the moment, he was very disturbed; the powerful barriers that now protected Seyruun were stronger than ever, throwing a wrench into his carefully thought out plans. And after waiting thousands of years to finally put his scheme into action, disrupting hic-ups to stall him further were absolutely unacceptable.

He let loose a deep, rumbling sigh; it was time for drastic measures to be taken. He could feel the darkness that haunted her slowly begin to pull away from him, evolving into something disgustingly purer. And it was all because of that man's return, that Zelgadis.

But there was still time, her heart had yet to heal completely. Unfortunately, he had to use this pathetic lower being in front of him to do his work. But it would not last forever, he reasoned. Soon, he would have her, and she would be the one to bring him his salvation.

"A gathering, you say?" he finally spoke with a narrowing of his eyes.

Kreoss nodded solemnly. "Yes. In honor of the acclaimed Lina Inverse's birthday." He smiled darkly. "The slayer of Dark Star."

"Dugradigdu was an imbecile. He deserved to perish if a mere human girl and her lackeys were enough to suppress him."

"Still," Kreoss carefully interjected, keeping his head bowed in both fear and respect, "I would like to take the proper precautions. With that newly formed shield in the way, I'm afraid I won't be able to use your power within its confines."

A sigh. "You are right." His master lifted his hand from the armrest, held it out in front of him as his onyx eyes stared shrewdly at his faced-up palm. Snarling mist snaked in from the vortex around them, snowballing and bonding until it coalesced into a jagged shard of gleaming black metal.

Kreoss, who had lifted his gaze upon sensing his ruler's power, felt his jaw drop in wondrous awe. "That's..."

"Yes. It is a fragment of the sword I used in my battle against Tearfied, before the blade shattered and sank into the abyss." With a quick underhanded toss, he carelessly threw it to his waiting soldier. "Make sure it gets to our contact on the inside. He will know what to do with it to make the city's defenses falter."

Kreoss curled his fingers around the smooth object, felt a jolt of ecstasy race through his body at the seductive sensation of corrupted power. He grinned maniacally.

"I won't disappoint you, my lord."

- -

The sound of strangled guitar notes screeched through the emptying ballroom, the last of the guests clamping their hands over their ears in disgusted grimaces.

"_My ears!_ Oh Gods, make it stop! _ Please_ make it stop!" Lina wailed and promptly buried her face in Gourry's chest. He enfolded her in his arms and rubbed her back soothingly, but his muscles convulsed in great effort to bottle his laughter.

Amelia gave a firm shove against Zelgadis's shoulder, and the horrible, grating noise finally ceased and took mercy on all of their aching eardrums. "Zelgadis-san!" she shrieked with laughter. "Can you _please_ stop goofing around and play it right this time?"

Zelgadis smirked back at her, clutched his prized guitar against his chest defensively. "Just what are you implying, princess? Are my skills not up to par with those of Seyruun's illustrious orchestra?"

"_Those_ skills aren't even up to par with a fingerless blind man's," Lina snapped hotly. But he saw a playful merriment twinkling in her ruby-like eyes, noticed a twitching smile trying to crack the pout that she so stubbornly insisted on maintaining.

_The truth is, Lina, you're still the open book that you always were._ Part of him – the rarely seen amused and teasing side – wished to express the passing observation aloud, see how the infamous Bandit Killer would handle such a raw truth about herself.

But his sensible side was far more prominent, so instead he let his fingers glide over the guitar strings once more, this time strumming the tune of an enrapturing melody he had composed himself during his journey in the Desert of Destruction.

"Only because you're the birthday girl, Lina," he relented with a smirk as his guitar crooned the mystifying ballad of the badlands.

Treading upon that vast expanse of hot, golden sand and barren wastelands, his disheartened soul had turned to music to bring some semblance of beauty into his desolate world of cold solitude. His nostalgic compositions were the manifestations of what little hope he had stubbornly clung to during those angst ridden times, and in the end he was left with a series of hauntingly beautiful melodies that told his story of the sand.

Eyes clouded over in far-away remembrance, Zelgadis lazily swept his gaze across the nearly vacant ballroom. All of the nobles had left, and Philionel was off distributing payment to the cooks and waitstaff. He played his musical memoirs for just his friends now at the endless persuasion of the princess; the night had transpired exceptionally well, rightfully leading into a cozy after-party between their tightly knit group of adventurers. But the prim quartet that was hired for the night couldn't stay past their designated time slot, and with everyone still so wired and jovial, Amelia had presumptuously volunteered Zelgadis to fetch his guitar and play for them instead.

He was reluctant at first; Zelgadis had an affinity for music, but was only used to playing for himself. But she'd soon resorted to begging, her ultramarine irises churning with hope and innocent expectations, and he knew he was a goner. How could he deny her anything after knowing what his stubbornness had done to her in the past? Hells, he would've crawled to the highest point of the Kataart Mountains and strummed on his guitar there if she'd asked, that was how deep his guilt still ran.

_Well, maybe that's exaggerating things a little. She's still just a girl._

He chanced a glance at her now, couldn't stop himself from smiling as Gourry spun her sloppily across the dance floor in lighthearted jest, her uninhibited laughter howling through the echoing room as she haphazardly twirled her way back to him on the balls of her bare feet. The wine they had all been drinking throughout the night might have been a bit too prevalent in their blood streams, but it was a care that did not concern any one of them at the moment. Zelgadis couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much.

In an effort to keep up with the other dancing couple, Zangalus swung Lina a little too low in a flourished dip, and the redhead slipped out of his grasp and collapsed onto the floor for the second time that day. She glared up at the swordsman with anger crackling in her crimson eyes. "Damn it, Zangalus! Do you _completely_ lack coordination? Gawd, no wonder Gourry beat you so effortlessly all those times!"

Still sore over that particular subject, Zangalus didn't offer her a helping hand, only held one over his heart in mock offense. "I'll have you know, Lina Inverse, that I have been training quite hard since those days. As a matter of fact, I bet I could beat him in a match right here and now!"

His pompous claim was quick to catch Gourry's attention. "You're on!" he exclaimed with a toothy grin as he dipped Amelia with the grace that Zangalus had apparently been lacking. The two men reached for the swords belted at their hips after their dancing partners were safely out of harms way.

"Oh no, I don't think so." Martina marched to stand between them with arms spread wide on either side of her, one palm facing each swordsman. "We've all had a bit too much to drink tonight, and I'm not risking having my wonderful husband's gorgeous face go to pieces by a drunken slash of a sword. Uh-uh, no way."

"Aww..." the two men chorused in groans of disappointment, but the queen was firm, shooting a warning glance at her husband beyond the reach of her fingertips. Her eyes dared him to object further, but all Zangalus did was swallow fearfully and nod in obedience.

"Yes ma'am."

Amelia's laughter was uncontrollable, bursting through her lips in a frenzy of broken giggles as she desperately clutched her sides, her body hunched over and wobbly from the force of her spasms. She had long since lost her tiara for the night, placing it in the care of one of her handmaidens and then eagerly tying her hair up in a messy bun. Her high heels lay discarded underneath a table nearby, carelessly tossed next to Lina's in a contempt that they mutually shared for the wretched things. Despite having switched her beverage of choice to water more than hour ago, her skin still glowed with a rosy sheen, her eyes glittered with mirth and excitement. She was sober, but hyper. And she was having the time of her life.

Once she'd finally righted herself, she fanned herself hopelessly with her hand. "It's a shame that Sylphiel-san had to leave early," she noted to the crowd with a hint of sadness and a guilty shrug.

"Yeah," Lina chimed in with a grimaced expression, one hand unceremoniously rubbing her backside as she continued to glower in Zangalus's direction. "I mean, why would anyone be so quick to hurry back to a boring temple, of all places?"

"She's very committed to her job, Lina-san," the princess soundly defended. "What she does really matters. She develops cures to the country's most devastating diseases every day!"

"Fascinating," Lina droned and plopped down next to Zelgadis. "Come find me when she's killed a dark lord. Then we'll compare life achievements."

As soon as those condescending words were spoken aloud, she visibly flinched. The alcohol had loosened up her roguish tongue too much, dissolving her already thin verbal filter and further emboldening her. "Sorry, shouldn't have brought that up," she mumbled grumpily in an effort to backtrack. Lina never denied her self-confidence, never pretended to be a humble and frilly young woman with years of etiquette training. But while saving the world several times was definitely something to be smug about, each situation had been far too dire and frightening for her to speak of so lightly. So what if she had the title of Planet Protector under her belt; it would have meant nothing if she'd lost her friends in the process.

Zelgadis smirked good-naturedly, nimble fingers still picking methodically at the guitar strings. "Never fret, Lina." He shared a somewhat sheepish, knowing glance with Amelia. "You just might be able to prove yourself yet again."

Lina stared at him in confusion. "What are you going on about?"

"I need some air," Amelia intervened, aimed a silencing glare at the ex-chimera in warning. _Not tonight. Please?_ He hesitated, then shrugged and looked back down at his humming instrument. A sunny smile made its way across her face again. "I'm still feeling a bit breathless from laughing so hard. Would you like to join me on the veranda, Lina-san?"

"I would, but I've gotta teach," she swung her head in Zangalus's direction, "Sir Two-Left-Feet here how to dance, since Martina has apparently been doing a crummy job."

"Oh Lina, now that's just not fair!"

"Yeah, well neither is giving your husband the perfect instruction on how to be a bumbling idiot!"

"Why are you so _mean_ to me!?"

Amelia slowly tip-toed away from the dramatic duo and the ensuing catfight, hiking her skirt up to her knees as she made her careful escape to the accordion-like doors that opened to the veranda. Even though it was built directly on the ground and faced only the dense thicket of trees ahead, it was still a convenient little area for guests to retreat to if they needed a breath of fresh air, or if they cared to listen to the calming drizzle of the stone-rimmed fish pond just meters away. Amelia had used the quaint patio many times to escape the frustrations that came along with most of the galas thrown at the palace.

Her bare feet stepped onto the flat granite flooring, and with eyes half-lidded in contentment, she strolled over to the railing in front of her. The smooth, velvety tune of Zelgadis's melody trickled into the black night, filled the air with mystery and grace. Amelia shut her eyes completely and lost herself in the stir of sweet, magical notes.

_He's so talented. I wonder if he wrote all of these himself?_

She was jerked out of her blissful, dreamlike state when she heard the click of the doors shutting behind her. Her eyes snapped open and she whirled around, her heart in her throat and throbbing painfully.

"Who's there?"

- -

Lina slapped her palm against her forehead, shaking her head in awed disbelief. "I give up. You're hopeless." Zangalus threw his hands up in the air and turned his back on her.

"Fine! I'm hopeless! But just to remind you, you're not exactly the prime example of a darling damsel."

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

Gourry chuckled as he walked up behind her, quieted her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, his eyes twinkling warmly. "Come on Lina, let's show them how it's done," he winked down at her.

Her heart skipped a beat as a light blush bloomed in the apples of her cheeks. "Gourry..."

A sweet moment, lost on them again as sharp, heavy footsteps alerted the group to the presence of someone new.

Five pairs of eyes widened in shock, but it was Martina who voiced their thoughts with a shrill yell that ricocheted off the walls.

"_Oh my gods!_"

- -

"Forgive me," she lightly gasped when she noticed the figure standing before her. "I thought all of the guests had left." Amelia pressed her hand to her chest as she allowed her gaze to rake over the unfamiliar man's appearance, a nagging sense of apprehension tickling the back of her mind, demanding she cater to it and run away.

His confident posture and calm expression made it quite clear that the feeling wasn't mutual. "I was a late arrival," he said very simply. "I wanted my time spent here to be well worth it."

She pressed her back against the stone railing behind her, tried to shrink away from him as much as she could. Something about his aura felt scarily familiar, putting her in a state of great unease. He didn't look like a villain, though; he wasn't even wearing black. He wore white, in fact, a white suit with a royal blue vest and tie, and he had a crown of well-kept light brown hair.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but the party ended over an hour ago," she attempted to reason in a steady voice. "I can have you escorted out, if you'd like."

He chuckled, a deep throaty noise that rose eerily into the inky heavens. It made her tremble. "That is where you are mistaken, Highness." He extended his hand out to her in invitation. "The party is just beginning."

- -

Trevor calmly strode across the marble floor with the still figure nestled in his arms, his eyes cold and blank while hers seemed to a hold a world of pain bonded with those sage green depths. His were narrowed; hers were wide open in suffering. Neither made a sound as they stopped several feet away from the group.

"_Sylphiel!_"

Gourry's shout resonated throughout the colossal room as he sprang forward, but it was Zelgadis who held him back with an eerily solemn look stilling his features. "Gourry, don't," he ordered softly, his troubled gaze roaming over the obsidian object that stood erect from the center of her belly.

"But it's _Sylphiel!_" Gourry pleaded with him, then snapped his ferocious glare onto Seyruun's general. "What did you do to her!?" he bellowed, withdrew his sword in a smooth flourish. Zangalus followed suit, mouth set in a grim line as he protectively shoved his wife behind him.

"You will answer us, heathen!"

With a quiet snort, Trevor released his hold on the paralyzed young woman, tossed her none-too-gently onto the floor at his booted feet. "Only what I had to."

"Gourry...dear..." Sylphiel whispered, and then her eyes shut as her world faded to black.

- -

Fireworks of panic and nausea exploded inside of her, and Amelia falteringly fell to her knees. "Who are you," she rasped as her hands flew to her stomach. _I've felt this before._

"You don't have to be afraid," the man cooed in a falsely soothing voice. "We're meant to do great things together. It is His will."

"Monster," she whispered. "How did you get past our defenses..." She felt so powerless with the sickness clawing at her stomach, her eyes stinging with hot, blinding tears. Anxiety smothered her and she clawed at the fabric of her skirt. _I've felt this before..._

- -

Zelgadis was the last to draw his weapon, a feral growl rumbling in his throat as he gracefully slid the sleek blade from its sheath. "I knew I didn't like you," he grunted with murder in his eyes. "But why her? Why Sylphiel?"

Trevor shook his head a few times, a wry smile twisting his mouth into something cruel and hideous. "There's only one woman I'm after, you twit."

He swallowed, tried to force down the waver in his voice. "Amelia?"

- -

He approached her slowly, and she curled further into herself. "It's time for you to accept your destiny, Amelia."

_My destiny..._

"You're suffering right now because you can't handle His power yet. He can change you though. He can save you, like he saved me."

_I've felt this before._

"Just come with me, and it will all be over soon. You don't have to be helpless anymore."

_Monster._

_Booley._

_NO._

Self-conjured defiance burst in her chest as her gaze snapped up to meet his condescending stare. She narrowed her eyes, irises darkening into the color of tossing, turbulent ocean waves. "I am _NOT_ helpless!" she screamed through the drilling pain, the dizzying panic, the suffocating evil. With raw hatred burning in her eyes, she channeled her fading strength into a single blow.

"_Diem Wing!_"

Kreoss hadn't been expecting that. With a surprised yelp, he felt his body lift from the ground and go crashing through the folding doors behind him, chunks of wood flying through the air and biting painfully into his skin. He skid across the ballroom floor, shouting obscenities as the rest of the group jumped in surprise at the sudden interruption.

Trevor walked over to him in curt, clipped steps, looked down at his crumpled form in annoyance. "Is this how it goes? I stab a priestess to grant you access, while you are bested by one?"

"Shut up," Kreoss murmured when he finally regained his wits about him and stood hastily. "She just caught me off guard. She shouldn't have been able to cast a spell in that state."

Zelgadis froze when he saw the monster's face.

"I really couldn't care less. I got the girl like you instructed and forced her to put my guards to sleep. I held up my end of the bargain."

"Yes, yes. And I held up mine, don't you worry."

Her swarming afflictions suddenly evaporated in a breathtaking _whoosh_, and Amelia shakily got to her feet, legs quaking with the physical exertion. She staggered into the room, eyes cast down in exhaustion. "What's...going on..." she wheezed, swiped the back of her hand across her lightly sweating forehead. Her worried eyes took in the sight of Sylphiel's body on the floor and she gasped. "What happened to Sylphiel-san?" she shrieked.

"Well, for starters, you've got a traitor for a general!" Lina screamed, circling widely around their opponents to make way to the princess's side. "What about you? What happened out there?" she rushed through her questions anxiously as she approached her best friend's swaggering form.

"I don't know..." Amelia's gaze snapped up, rested on the callous expression of her kingdom's top soldier. Her eyes shone with hurt and confusion. "Trevor-san?"

He smoothly looked away from her with calm indifference. "As I was saying, we had a deal."

"It's taken care of."

"And who the hell are _you?_" Lina spat. "You sure as hell picked the wrong party to crash!"

"Actually, I picked just the right one." Kreoss cocked his head curiously at the ex-chimera, who had yet to move or speak after the monster had made his impromptu entrance onto the scene. "Wouldn't you agree, Zelgadis?"

All eyes switched to him, and Zelgadis fought the lump of guilt that painfully clogged his throat. "Is that really you, Karson?"

"Surprised?" The Mazoku's lip curled in ferocity and he forced out a harsh laugh. "Finally, we cross paths again. Though Karson, I am no longer. He died long ago. I, my old friend, am Kreoss. That is the name that my master has given me."

"I should have known what you would turn into."

"Thanks to you," Kreoss countered, "thanks to the coward that you were two years ago."

Amelia wearily stared at Zelgadis over the monster's shoulder, expected to see his facial muscles contort with anger or denial at the unjust accusation. But instead she saw a flash of extreme sorrow flicker through his eyes, noticed the slight slump of his shoulders. "Is that why you're here?" he bit out. "To punish me for a mistake I made that long ago? And in the forest last week – that was you, wasn't it?"

"I tried to warn you. You were not meant to be a part of this. Now that lovely priestess might die, and you'll have another dead body on your hands."

Zelgadis's shoulders tensed as the same heart-twisting anguish tore through his insides. Be he maintained a cool, even stare, his steel grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. "I did not kill Kira," he forced between his clenched teeth, just barely above a whisper.

Kreoss scoffed. "Please. We both know it was your fault. Coward."

Fed up with waiting, Trevor growled. "Kreoss, our _deal_. I need to see it."

"Oh, fine." He smiled bitterly at the ex-chimera. "Looks like we'll just have to catch up on the good ol' days some other time." He feigned a sigh of exaggerated regret and snapped his fingers.

Ropes of black mist started to swirl before them all, a tornado of gaseous binds that snapped and crackled with golden sparks of energy. Lina immediately shielded her eyes from the blast of wind that exploded outward from the obsidian cyclone, her other arm flailing around to shove Amelia behind her.

"_Flare Arrow!_" she uttered into the flurrying tempest, but the spell crashed against a vine of onyx fog that had snapped out and subsequently diffused into sizzling embers. "Well, there goes that!"

Blond hair whipping wildly about his face, Gourry managed to shout over the howling winds. "Zangalus! You and Martina need to get Sylphiel out of here, now!"

"Forget it!" the other swordsman snapped back. "You're going to need my help!"

"She'll die if she doesn't get healed soon!"

"Come on," Martina pulled at her husband's hand eagerly. "Let's just do what he says, sweetheart!" she begged, tears streaming down her ashen face. "Please!"

With a grunt that no one could hear above the crackling air, Zangalus sheathed his sword in a hasty snap and let his wife pull him over to Sylphiel's prone body. He knelt down swiftly and picked her up in his arms.

Martina bit her lip in concern. "We'll take her to her temple. Someone should be able to help her there."

"I suppose that would be best." Her husband nodded his head in a salute to the rest of the group, and the couple scurried from the room in the midst of the surging chaos.

The gales began to die down as the ropes shrank together, coiling tightly to outline the form of a massive human being. They soon gave way altogether like a mummy being unwrapped, and the figure was uncovered in all his bloodied glory. His giant body hung from crackling vines that cuffed his beefy wrists, knuckles raw and blistered, face already splotched with puddles of purple bruises. His eyes were closed in his unconscious state, raven hair mussed in every direction.

"See?" Kreoss droned. "I keep my word."

Trevor nodded his approval. "Very well."

"That's..."

Lina gulped.

Amelia screamed.

"_DADDY!_"

As if that were the signal to start the fight, two swords were raised and clashed together in an instant. "_What did you do?_" Zelgadis demanded through clenched teeth as he struggled to push back the general's weapon. "If it's me you want, Karson, then let everyone else go! Leave Amelia alone!" he shouted to the Mazoku that stood away from them.

"Where was that attitude eight years ago?" he taunted. "Don't give me that fake pompous bullshit." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blond swordsman lunge for him, and quickly encased himself within a filmy shield of slithering shadows. Gourry slammed into it and was promptly sent sprawling across the floor.

"Gourry!" Lina's frightened voice carried over to him, but he quickly sprang back up.

"I'm okay, Lina. Be careful, he has a shield!"

Trevor grit his teeth. "Take the prince away already, will you?" He ordered as he tried to overpower the ex-chimera. He pitched his right leg forward and hooked it around Zelgadis's foot, swinging it up and knocking him onto his back. His scimitar arced downward, but Zelgadis quickly blocked the strike with his own sword.

"It's not fake," he roared in response to Kreoss's previous statement. He groaned beneath the crushing strength of the general. "And I'll die before I let you touch her." With a wild look growing in his eyes, he quickly pulled his knee to his chest and then snapped his leg out completely, delivering a swift kick into Trevor's groin.

"_Argh__!_" Trevor staggered back, his face purpling in agony as Zelgadis calmly flipped back onto his feet, and they engaged each other again.

The wild clashing of metal-on-metal resonated throughout the room as they locked themselves in a savage battle, Trevor moving with an army-trained preciseness evident in every sharp step, Zelgadis battling with the fixation, grace and awareness that Luo had helped him to condition under his instruction. Animalistic fury gushed through his veins, threatened to overcome every fiber of his sanity, but still he quelched it, siphoned it into the smooth sways of his sword. Anger, while an incredible stimulant, could also be a a warrior's greatest distraction. _Don't fall for it_, Luo always warned. _Be the one in control. Take action._

And so he did in a flurry of concentrated strikes, swinging with honed accuracy. Calm. Focused. Deadly. In his mind, there was no other option besides winning.

Eyes wide in terror and blurred with tears, Amelia roughly pushed past her best friend to come to Philionel's rescue, but her still-weak knees buckled and her trembling body pitched downward in a painfully jerking motion. Her knees cracked against the floor as her palms slapped down on marble, but it barely registered in her overworked brain as she cried brokenly over her hung and suffering father. Tears trailed down her cheeks in tiny rivulets as she curled her fingers into shaking fists.

"Daddy," she sobbed, pounded her fist against the ground in frustration. But the suffocating gales were sweeping in again, and before she knew it, her father had been carried away along the current of raven mists.

"_NO!_" she screeched, face torn in grief and agony. "Why?" she demanded of Kreoss as the tears cascaded with increasing urgency. But he sad nothing, only stared at her with those cruel slitted eyes as though he were disgusted by her display of weakness. She didn't care.

"Answer me!" she yelled in desperation, crawled toward the motionless monster. "WHY?"

He gave her a twisted smirk as he stood within his dome of crawling shadows. "It's time to go, Princess," Kreoss shook his head in mock sadness.

"No!" she resisted, temper flaring. "_Source of all souls that dwell within the eternal and the infinite, everlasting flame of blue..._"

Zelgadis heard her recite the very familiar spell and felt his heart leap in worry, terrified that her feeble condition wouldn't be able to withstand the power. He fought to shove his way past his opponent, tried in vain to get in range of her to at least chime in for the latter half of the incantation and shoulder the strain with her, but Trevor kept him at bay with quick and lethal offensive attacks that would kill him instantly if he were to take his eyes away from the battle for even a moment.

"Amelia, be careful!" was all he was able to yell between strikes. _Gods, please be careful..._

"_...all power hidden deep within, be called forth here and now._" Amelia hardened her gaze in defiance and conjured her last vestiges of strength. "_Ra Tilt!"_

The ring of blue flame rose from the ground and gushed around Kreoss and his shield, encased him in a waterfall of brilliance. She funneled everything she had left into the most powerful shamanistic spell known to man, prayed to the gods that it would be enough to destroy the evil and bring back her father. She felt her breath being sucked straight out of her body, tried to steady herself when her muscles spasmed and tore in their overtaxed state, swallowed the uprising blood that lined her throat. Her eyes teared and burned, but she hung onto every thread of the Ra Tilt, forcing every last ounce of her will into it. Like with the little boy and the father she healed, it didn't matter what happened to her.

_I want my daddy back._

The spell wavered and thinned among an audience of shocked faces, having completed its course, and she fell forward with a quiet moan. The left side of her face collided with the floor as she collapsed stomach-down, her arms twitching on either side of her. Her eyes, blank and half-lidded, stared ahead at the blond swordsman that was racing toward her.

She heard a low, strangled chuckle out of her field of vision, and her heart plummeted.

"Amelia!" Gourry shouted as he ran, but a tendril of black smoke whipped in front of him and tossed him back into the wall. He grimaced as his partner fled over to him.

"It didn't work," Gourry said to her, and Lina nodded grimly. He rubbed the back of his head in pain. "Lina...you should cast that spell."

The sorceress looked back toward the monster, who was now panting heavily within a much thinner shield, his hands braced against his knees as he glared at the prone form of the princess. He wiped a thin river of blood that trickled down his chin, heaved a sigh of exhaustion as he righted himself.

"You can't beat it, Amelia," Kreoss struggled to say, but his face took on a smug expression. "You can't beat Death."

"Stop! Leave her alone!" Zelgadis commanded in near hysteria, but Trevor pushed him away again with honed expertise.

Lina only hesitated for a second before the incantation to bring forth the _Ragna Blade_ was on her lips.

"What do you want from me..."

Kreoss raised an eyebrow at the mumbling princess. "You can still talk?" From his peripheral vision, he saw the redhead begin to cast and smirked. His body was mending quickly, his power regenerating at high speed, and he began gathering more dark, smoky energy into the palm of his hand. He would launch his master's _Death Arrow_ long before her _Ragna Blade_ would come to be.

A final tear escaped from Amelia's right eye and bridged over her nose as she saw him prepare a terrifyingly dark attack against Lina, so soon after she had injured him with everything she had left in her. And Amelia just let herself go, the acceptance of defeat weighing heavily down on her. _I can't do this anymore. Gods, someone, please...just get us of here._

The feeling only barely registered at first in her exhausted mind; a pinprick of warmth on her ring finger that gradually bloomed through her palm and flowed up her arm's length. Her hand laid motionless in front of her face and she focused her dull eyes on Cepheid's ring, stared at it in open wonderment as a milky glow ballooned outward from her hand. Dull and muted at first but growing with intensity, it soon shed the entire room in a celestial white blaze.

Finally getting his chance to escape, Zelgadis staggered away from his stunned opponent, throwing an arm over his face from the dazzling light. He blindly made his way to the supine princess, saw out of the corner of his eye that Gourry had Lina wrapped in his arms and was holding her tightly off to the side.

"What's happening?" Lina cried with eyes clamped shut, her spell disrupted as she dug her fingers into her bodyguard's forearm.

"I don't know! Is it Amelia?" Gourry held onto her more firmly.

He was almost to her now. He could hear her calling out to him, her sweet voice weak and trembling.

"...Zelgadis-san?"

The figures around him began to fade and disappear; his stomach felt like a boulder had been dropped through it, his eyes watered mercilessly, his throat was dry and constricted. He saw Amelia squinting at him through the pearly blaze, one hand reaching out to him in frail desperation, and he pushed himself forward until he could latch onto her shaking arm.

_A call has been answered. Away with ye now, lower beings._

The ethereal voice, feminine and mesmerizing, fluxed within their heads in celestial ambiance as all sounds and images dissolved into silence and nothingness.

And then they were gone.

- -

Panting, Kreoss unsnarled his fingers from his hair. Never before had he felt such searing pain rip through his entire body; power and will that could only belong to a god, battling his demonic soul with the most purest of energy. His insides still burned, the coppery taste of blood thick in his throat and mouth. Nostrils flared and chest heaving, he looked around the empty ballroom with wild eyes.

Only the general was with him, standing with hunched shoulders as he scrubbed his face with his hands. "Where did they go?"

Trevor blearily looked back at him. "How should I know?" he growled. "And why would I care? We're done. I got what I wanted."

"Yes," Kreoss mumbled as his attention was drawn to the veranda's splintered doorway and the tall figure that had just appeared there. "I suppose you did."

Trevor followed his gaze, and his heart stopped. With hope and awe swirling in his obsidian eyes, he took very cautious footsteps toward the woman, careful and painstakingly slow as if he feared she would scamper away like a frightened deer if he acted too rashly.

Kreoss rolled his eyes. "We'll be in touch," he said sarcastically and shimmered out.

She simply stood there, hands clasped in front of her chest, watching him with those indiscernible deep blue eyes that had been haunting his dreams nightly for over seven years. He dropped to his knees before her, arms spread wide in worship.

"Gracia," he choked out. "You came back. I knew you would. I _prayed_ you would."

She calmly walked forward then, intensity brewing in her sapphire eyes as her brave gaze never once wavered from his face. "Yes...my love." She stopped in front of him, brows drawn together and facial muscles tense as if she fought to hold back a barrage of teeming emotions. "I have returned."

"Gracia...Oh, Gracie." Trevor wrapped his arms around her slender waist. "I took care of your father and sister. The kingdom is rightfully yours again. Ours. You don't have to run anymore."

"Good," she whispered and tenderly ran her fingers through his thick brown hair. He rested his forehead against her flat stomach, and in turn missed the troubled glimmer in her eyes and her expression of deep anguish.

Naga leaned her head back and stared listlessly at the domed ceiling. She nodded slowly to herself, forced down her tears that begged for release. "Good..."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Slayers.

There you have it, folks. My dreaded action-packed chapter. _Please_ review and let me know your thoughts.


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